By Skyroad

Tarbert Ferry Rooks

Alongside cars waiting to cross the Shannon, 
two rooks came flapping and striding, play-pecking,
leap-rooking, jousting, taking off only to swirl back
tangled in each other’s downdraft, feather-blades fanned
lethal and glossy as polished pauldrons, gorgets;
a duo: clowns, vaudevillians wedded as Punch
to Judy, buskers selling us an act as old
as yesterday, or passed on like something twigged
in generations of rookeries, a lineage long
as this line of idling nests, each waiting its turn
to open up and pay peanuts, crumbs, obols.

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