Herring Gulls, glide,
underbellies glistening white.
Carrion Crows,
black ashes in the sky.
Feathered members line the fence,
waiting for the food lobby.
The impression – playful,
scavenger birds having fun,
as they ply the warm thermals
on a February day.
While I eat ice cream
with my Octogenarian Mum
embroidering a memory dress.
When she is no longer earthbound
and I watch the birds
on another persistent birthday,
Alone, and on my own
I won’t be completely naked.
Susan Jones