this poem contains a bird

this poem contains a bird
– or perhaps two –

being circumspect things,
they perch first upon
the edge of the gutter
above my head

to survey the wood-slatted,
peeled-paint valley
of the porch below –
seed on the other side

and if I am still enough,
and if I do not move
from my hidden roost
of the door frame,

they will brave the gap
– landing in tandem –
and allow me to write them

© Sarah Whiteley