Poem 257 – Old Man Toad

We keep an old metal bin lid upturned
and full of water for the birds.
On a hot day in spring it’s hilarious.
The young sparrows flock,
flapping their wings at a furious pace.
Splashing each other like teenagers,
their laughter fills the lawn.

Today I went to top it up.
Tipping out the water, I found Old Man Toad
huddled underneath in a grump,
like a grouchy grandad sat by the pool,
complaining about the youth of today.
He glowered at me.
Carefully, I covered him back up
and left him to it.

(10.08.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Jaunathan Gagnon on Unsplash

Poem 243 – Hedgerow Ragamuffins

The sky is wakened
by the urgent chatter
of sparrows bouncing
back and forth.
I can only see a few
but their chorus fills
my morning ears
and stirs me from
my slumbers.
They loiter in the bushes,
kicking cans and
and smoking joints, but
these avian urchins,
these hedgerow ragamuffins,
these cheeky chappies,
are anything but common
– they are the heralds
of the morn!

Pouring my morning cup of tea today, the air was suddenly
filled with the sound of sparrows singing; rowdy but beautiful.
(10.05.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Jacques LE HENAFF on Unsplash