Bird Talk
In every word they say.
I heard a whisper in the trees
Was it the will o’ the-wisp?
Leading me up the garden path
In the midnight air so crisp.
Or maybe a sneeze from the breeze
A cough hiccough or snuffle
When it’s dark out in the park
Dogs searching for a truffle.
Or was it my lucky cricket
Rubbing his legs together
Or maybe just a passing shower
A short change in the weather.
Before the dawn, my mind was torn
Between ifs and buts or who
Could be making haunting sounds
Too whit too whit too woo.
An old owl on the prowl
Trying to talk turkey
Or is it simply bird talk
Some birdies being quirky.
To me the rounds of morning sounds
Sound much like gobbledygook
Unintelligible language
Nere was written in a book.
I reckon it’s just bird talk
I hear it every day
From the lips the Freudian slips
In every word they say.
©
David Rudder
16th August 2021
Thanks for reading.
