The Birds And those birds sudden Took to hurried flight; Each pulsing flap Of urgent wing, Conjuring moments past And times remembered. Disturbing the calm air, Like a heartbeat insistent; Each rhythmic beat Charged with memories, Present, palpable, profound. And those birds shrieked Swirled, swooped and circulated, A display of all you recalled. Before disappearing to distant clouds, And silent calm returned. The birds, like memories, gone. As if they had never existed. _____________________________ Every bird a memory... A walk by the River Severn in Worcester and my daughter Louisa delighted in the hundreds of swans and ducks, pigeons and gulls that gathered in profusion. And the birds appeared en masse and each seemed to hold a memory of times spent in their company when Louisa's sister, our daughter Milla was alive.
Every bird a memory.
