SUMMER 2007

by

A.K.S. SHAW

It's rained on and off for six weeks plus,

God and his sun have forsaken us.

I've been down the chippy to order an ark,

and warned all the keepers at Regent's Park,

that we can't accomodate quadrupeds,

space is short and there aren't enough beds.

To keep us warm and properly fed,

we're taking a load of fowls instead -

 twelve fat turkeys, tender and tasty,

twenty-four blackbirds with plenty of pastry,

a nicely reared crossbill, a gay cockatoo,

some large breasted pullets, ideal for a stew;

stunning birds, mocking birds, starling, a stork,

a pigeon-toed jay, and a sharp-witted hawk,

a whitethroat, a swallow, some swans and a swift,

a skylark ascending to give us a lift,

two proud peacocks strutting their stuff,

a wagtail, a magpie, a rook, and a ruff;

a soft-hearted heron that doesn't like fishing,

a couple of love birds that cannot stop kissing,

some garrulous hens, a wise cracking owl,

a prize fighting cock that's thrown in the towel,

a sad looking crane with hook and arm missing,

(that's just a wind up to make sure you're listening),

a couple of wrens, an eagle-eyed sparrow,

a robin hood hat, a small bow and arrow.

Blue tits are common, but great tits are rare.

We'll look on the web and find a nice pair.

We'll pack in a puffin, a funny old tern,

and leave enough room for a shag in the stern.

At the end of the day when our chores are done,

we'll sit on the deck in the evening sun,

a crimson parrot upon my shoulder,

repeating our words, as we both grow older.

A high-flying kite will act as our guide,

and send us a text when the waters subside.