Thoughts After Last Friday

The blue tits predict the weather;

Observed – manic activity

Fat balls eviscerated


The next day it snows

A coincidence, I think

Until all week they are quiet

And easily chased by the robin


Then, another day of ceaseless eating

The mercury drops

The snow is back

Feathering at first

Soon the road is covered


Reflecting the light

Leaving sheep pink

Silently an owl swoops

Over the fields


This way I know what’s coming next

This way life comes back

The light turns

Floods the house from the west and south

Even the setting of the sun

Is fierce


It does not want to go down

It will not die quietly


The birds squabble over final scraps

Will eat us out of house and home

We say over coffee as the steam rises

A blackbird hovers

Seeming huge


Still frozen air is broken by

The sound of cows lowing


It is unseasonably cold although

Average temperatures are up 2 degrees

Life, clamours, fights, endures

It does not matter what it’s for

Instead it is, it is and it is until it is not.


by Ali Millar