Magpie

 White fields sleeping, cold and wide,

Lonely magpie struck my eye.

Perched up high upon a wire,

Looking like a priest for hire.

Black as coal and thin as rain,

Tiny queen of winter’s plain.

Sad as Monday, proud as sin,

With a beak too large and grin.

Like a shadow, like bad luck,

Like a gambler freshly stuck.

Like a note that lost the song,

Still she stubbornly hangs on.

Strange as ink on winter white,

Lonely dancer in the night,

Elegant as midnight’s tune,

Like a blackbird mocking moon.

Dark as coffee kissed by cream,

Floating through a frozen dream,

Like the heart of midnight skies

Wrapped in silver, glowing eyes.

Caught between the frost and flame,

Wild and lovely all the same.

And from her I took a feather

To improve the winter weather