Housemothers twain, swaddled in sorrel fur
And bustled skirts, walking ‘tween the parklands.
Brilliant cobalt sky, above cawing birds,
Who demand substance, with their harangue?
So the fostering queens proffer their alms.
The badelynge of ducks, on polished ice,
Lambently advance with feral affray.
As morsels of cardinal fare, entice.
The attending dames in their tender, urbane way,
Have rescued these birds from another wintry day.
Copyright © Al Parry