The Blue Tit
The darting cobalt blue,
streak of yellow gold
swiftly passes
snatching tasty seed then –
flees to hide, green
amongst the laurel leaves
which tremble and
close in its wake.
Peeping out eye bright, he
fixes upon a nutty gem.
The seething bush
releasing a wild friend, who
like a salmon leaping
over a water fall
flies up
and sinks
and is gone
as is the morsel
vanished
to feed
a tiny form
against
the growing cold.
