This morning a box of presents for a jackdaw

Decided to give my jackdaw another chance at freedom this morning. 

The morning opens out of the box of night,

 like presents laid on a table for a child,

wrapped in birdsong and tied with silver dew,

My jackdaw is sitting in the poplar tree,

the tallest around,

eating a breakfast,

of sunlight and stardust,

If I could fly,

i would come too, over the fields,

 show you a thing or two about,

dung beetles.

Just to fly for one day, one time,

may be worth the ever lasting death,

to stretch your wings and be one with the sky,

i will never know.

Keep up, keep up,

the jackdaw is alighting in the hawthorn,

and with forensic  beak,

inspects each new born leaf.

There is so much to know,

old man's beard, white bryony,

soft mud and creased wood,

the gnawing frosts of winter.

Love, is not confined to our kind,

when one loves a jackdaw,

perch on my shoulder and groom my hair,

life fills with conundra.

 I fear, I worry for 

your safety, but 

I want you to feel the breeze,

the september sun is warming.

And you have chosen this perfect morning

nothing would stop you,

you sat all night in the pouring rain

to have this morning.

I stand my feet on my balcony and call

and out of the woods,

the canopy of light and green,

you answer me.

Go find your friends,

I shout,

You chat back,

a teenage bird on a high.

Sometimes, its possible to set free,

and to truly love back

and not come back

to  love freedom more.

Sasha x