I wake to the sounds of morning
Shrill song, dawn is calling
Open curtains, colours flit fast
An arc, a swoop, a glide
Fills my heart from inside

I love these little balls of fluff
Don't be surprised, small is tough
On the branch, or on the floor
In all directions, do they soar
On hearing a car backfire
Or a child scream, a whack to inspire

But soon again, once noise is past
In they flutter, flutter fast
Taking root amongst their leafy domes
The cedars, the oaks, their Barratt homes

Chattering, tweeting, making a din
Some like to sit, some like to sing
Whatever their temperament
Whatever their pleasure
One truth will always be
These bundles of beauty are part of me.