A blackbird in the garden

~

A blackbird came along the path.

I watch for him each morning.

I throw sultanas from a jar,

a favourite for his coming.

~

He pecks them up but seeks for something living.

He bites a worm clean in half and eats the flesh with relish.

He let a beetle pass in peace. He must know its flavour.

It’s not an act of giving. The garden is his table.

~

I saw his eyes, like polished beads

in fear survey the garden.

Ebony, obsidian, blizzard stone, black diamonds.

I see how they have hardened.

~

I saw the murderous killer come

on velvet paws, crouched low

to snatch her prey in play.

She’s as black as he is.

~

Predators, both of them.

I pray and bang the window.

The bird surprised flies fast away.

Today by me he’s pardoned.

~

The cat casts her amber eyes

in my direction, glaring.

I swear at her and clap my hands.

Yes. I stand in judgement.

~

On my stove the bacon fries.

I crack an egg that’s fertilised.

I vow I’ll be a vegan.

The blackbird is my reason.

© A.Chakir 2023