Photo ©Luis Garcia
pied harbinger waddles,
the weight of misfortune on its back.
No idiot fowl, this,
the cunning of the crow, beady bright intellect,
and the morals of a guttersnipe.
Bird, you trail your glorious tail,
spread wings, a Chinese kite
and shriek your raucous cry,
brawling in the bushes where the robin sings,
and doves shuffle nervously, fledglings beneath the wing,
wary of the snowy white pantaloons and heavy beak,
the opportunist gangster of the poplars.
A single showy flash, lone bird of bad augur,
and I turn for home,
the sky suddenly charged with rain,
or some domestic drama brewing out of sight.
Black and white, luck and disaster, oracle bird,