a soft chiming call fills the trees
then the flurry of a hundred pairs of wings
that still into crested silhouettes
one flies overhead
- a rush of red tipped wings -
to grab
berries from a nearby tree
a pink punk with a bandit mask
Waxwings are in Edinburgh in their hundreds
:)))) pink punk
ReplyDelete"pink punk with a bandit mask" = perfection.
ReplyDeleteSorry, got to say it too.
ReplyDeleteThat final line!
What a cool poem.
ReplyDeleteI love this, Juliet ... and would love to see a Waxwing, for that matter.
ReplyDeleteWaxwings, my new favorite birds I've never seen.
ReplyDeleteHi Juliet,
ReplyDeleteWhat a wonderful poem and will now go and google the Waxwing bird, sounds lovely.
Happy week
Hugs
Carolyn
The poem describes them well! They are wonderful birds that I love to have visit.
ReplyDeleteoh, i've missed reading your poetry in my absence. this is wonderful. you always have the perfect way to say something. hope all is well.
ReplyDeletePeople go bonkers for the cedar waxwings!!
ReplyDeletethat still into crested silhouettes
ReplyDeleteWhat a beautiful way of describing them go still all of a sudden.
This is such a lively and inventive poem.
Thanks everyone for your comments! Draffin Bears - the red text in the post is a hyperlink and takes you directly to a page about waxwings (complete with photos and sound recordings!)
ReplyDeleteWonderful. I had never heard of waxwings - now I have! Thank you CGP.
ReplyDeleteWonderful poem. Our waxwings are starting to come back (though I've not seen any yet this year).
ReplyDelete