My Neighbor Birds
It all starts at around five thirty
And by six thirty the entire canopy
Is awash with white birds flattering
Or resting or just having bird fun
I approach just as dusk beckons
After a fascinating African sunset
And there they are happily unsettled
Seeking fun or to re-establish their lair
For the wide-canopied acacia tree
Is visibly reeling from the weight
Of hundreds of seemingly indefatigable
Singing, dancing or simply playful birds
I leave the place as darkness thickens
And wish them a pleasant slumber
And return to my solitary corner
For the long nocturnal journey
To tomorrow and all its chores
And I promise myself an early rise
To check on my neighbour birds
But find them gone, all of them
What brings them back to this tree
For strange as it might sound
There’s not a single nest there
And not a single nestling, either?
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