Mother is the brown of polished chestnuts
with a beak as bright as her mate's.
Dutifully they collect food, wait
every morning for the feast of raisins
to carry to their brood
hidden in a garden tree.
Soon they will come to the lawn
with large-mouthed, speckled young
teach them to pull worms from grass
to recognise the footsteps
that promise raisins.
for my parents, who feed raisins to the blackbirds
Family for Sunday Scribblings