Linda France

Joy


 

Two magpies loiter, wing to wing, at the lip

of the pond; dip big bills into its dark bowl.

 

A patina of cobalt flashes behind bellies, fat

and soft as cream.  There is chattering

 

and nodding.  Later, through the gate,

over the glade of cottongrass, they’re still

 

together, slicing the sky in two; spelling

it out – inky feathers, skin and bone.

 

 

 

From: You are Her, Arc Publications, 2010.