Jackdaw sees

Alzatapadule

Wind is king in the autumn sky
Tossing squalls of feathers and flocks of cloud.
Round about the spire jackdaw jester soars
Settles with mock gravity on the cross iron
And peers from the dizzy height at the world below.
His raucous voice calls the pigeons from their nests
And taunts the silent demons carved in stone
But only the majestic wind replies
Singing sea songs as it blusters by
Bending trees and the river sedge
Drawing winter from its northern lair
Harnessed to the broad wings of the wintering geese.

Dancing leaves

Autumn_on_the_Seine,_Argenteuil_by_Claude_Monet,_High_Museum_of_Art

In the square

a smiling girl bends and sways

pirhouettes for the crowd

her eyes half-closed

to better hear the gasps of admiration.

Jackdaw cocks a jet-bright eye

then leaps

a burlesque tumble of sleek black wings

to dance amid the golden rain

tossed from the ragged skirts of autumn trees.

The crowd applauds

the girl beams

jackdaw preens a glossy plume

while the fiery dance of the trees goes on

for as long as there are trees with leaves to cast

more precious than pearls before swine.