May sings

bustling crowd of sparrows sing chanterelles

along to the beat of tiny green hands

on trees no longer brittle as the sap swells

the fine reaches and hidden aging bands

fighting seagulls wag tongues from grey beaks

a yobbish language a contrast in pink breaches

strut their Burgess Nadsat in pecks and squawks

that must end where roof territory reaches

a passing van is painted to entice

the favours of tourist and the dollar

a repeat distorted call to buy ice

creams and flakes that children follow

like a mob of birds . No discernible words

in this May day operetta a story of buds

bursting with colour and scales heard

from high pitch song to percussion thud

the season is alive it’s spark and ignition

the streets are bursting with springtime frisson