WAGTAIL GREY

'Cilla' the Grey Wagtail (Motacilla cinerea) (Author's photo)

I don't know who
Was more excited.

Me? Grabbing the camera
On the wrong settings,
Flustering a few shots
Steaming the glass
Between us
With breath half-held in hush
For fear of you fleeing
Without trace.

Or you, wagtail?
Cinder ashen
Bumper rump a-bob
Lemon patched
Like nicotine
On pale knuckles
Nervy restless
Astonished
Astraddle
Puddle
Where the ice blade
Cruel edge
Of January
In this moment melted
To mirror
Your twitch and startle.
The same chill cut-throat
Drove you
Pittering to my patio
From waterway
And ringing river
Into the now
Of my scattering seed
My staggering standstill.