Sunday, 27 July 2008

Linnet

No fledglings.
Yet stunning, still
in his best breeding plumage,
serenading from a bracken top,
scarlet ripeness pulsing through his crown
and oozing down his breast.
They dart to the same tree as one calls alarm,
always together, getting through,
they flit over an empty nest,
the pale centre of his breast
leaking red, staining him,
and from the fading foxgloves
he sings, sweetly sings....

5 comments:

Coastcard said...

Another fine poem, Carol. Thank you. We were on the Gower peninsula on Sunday, and wished we had had you with us to help us in our attempts at identifying chats on the gorse.

Thank you for your speedy help with my beetle: mystery solved, thanks to the kind folk at Buglife and Wicken Fen.

You may like to see my notes on your book.

http://carolinegillpoetry.blogspot.com/2008/07/from-field-book.html

Mistlethrush said...

The Gower - lucky you. Makes me realise I'll have to find time to go there again. I really love the UK - we have so much in a relatively small place.

Crafty Green Poet said...

that's beautiful, very evocative of the linnet himself. Not that I've seen any for a while...

Mistlethrush said...

Thanks Crafty Green Poet (great name!)

I don't see them close-up very often either so get a real buzz when I do.

I know there is a resident pair on one of my regular patches but usually all I see is a pair flying off into a nearby tree and I think it probably is them but.... and my hearing never quite catches their calls....

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from the field book

from the field book
An inspiring gift for anyone who enjoys watching nature.