Saturday, 4 May 2013

the birdscarer

Like David
I found my weapons on the battlefield,
repelling the invaders of our golden hoard.
They swarmed, and clamouring,
massed for the attack.

Out of nowhere appeared a single form:
swift and true my lonely stone did fly
and fall to the golden field
where the vanquished lay.

And in that instant
I felt feathers brush my fingers
and the beat of a tiny heart in my hands,
 the wind against my face
and my spirit soared,

but then I was just standing in a field of corn,
black with crows
and in my hands
a bundle of black feathers and a broken heart.

This is an old one. We had a school reading book about lives of Victorian children, and one of the stories was about a boy who was a sort of human scarecrow. The idea stuck with me for a long time, and eventually resulted in this.


  1. That's so sad. And pretty.

    (I saw your comment on my blog and came over for a visit.)

    This is going to sound strange, but I think it's so cool that you live in the United Kingdom! I've always wanted to visit.

  2. Thanks @Awdur. I like living here ;) The weather could be better on average, but it's been pretty great this summer so can't complain.

    ...and there I've just covered all the stereotypes - talking about the weather and 'mustn't grumble attitude' - was completely accidental, honest! :)