A Blackbird In Oxwich Wood
I spied a blackbird with its jaunty hopping gait
Gathering twigs, then stopping, tilting its head
To one side to listen for worms in order to grate.
With its fondness of litter leaf to lay upon its bed.
It lives in the beech tree or wild sycamore
Breaking twigs with its beak which it shreds to the core.
In winter it is beauty to behold, its plumage of black feathers
And orange beak glistening in the snow and all weathers.
Its orange ringed eye is distinctive as is its beak.
It flies through the woods or forest edge with its feathers so sleek.
From the high treetops he springs to the hedgerow where he can be seen standing,
Or, sometimes glides and flicks its tail upon landing.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
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