A charcoal dark thief lurks
under the dense protection of hawthorn,
vigilant as a spy, patient intent,
a black devil watching ever watching
at the dry periphery
of the gaggling waterfowl.
A damaged crooked crow
poor sorry emasculated bully
his crossed nib beak
and fractured feathers
command no further raucous warning
of defiance, but left with
just a scavenger's guile
and canny know-how
where our scraps will fall,
this wounded ninja, now
tolerated like a court jester,
pitiful shadow amongst the thorns,
survivor
is watching ever watching
for our next stray morsel.
© Graham Sherwood 04/2016
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