The Jackdaws Are Calling Poem by ANDREW BLAKEMORE

The jackdaws are calling from out of the woodland
They lurk in the branches there hidden from sight,
While scanning the ground where the food now is scattered
Yet covered they rest in the shade of the night,
They swoop in a flash and then gone in a moment
With stealth and with cunning pass almost unseen,
Then again to the treetops to dwell in the shadows
To peer to the ground through the leaves that are green.

They stare at the scrub and the bushes beneath them
Like thieves of the darkness now ready to steal,
Their cloaks are of black with their grey hoods concealing
Their image and features no shame do they feel,
They swoop once again in the safety of numbers
And into the open they land on the floor,
In silence they stalk and then gather like reapers
The scraps in their beaks as they head off once more.

To return to the peace and the shade of the woodland
With rustle of branches to which they now cling,
They then fly away in the skies far above me
Then soar to the clouds as they sail on the wing,
They travel like gypsies away on their journey
Not seeming to settle or finding a home,
From pillar to post they go constantly searching
As over the land and the country they roam.