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Ben Bohnhorst
Jackdaws At Stonehenge
Jackdaws have (caw!) no sense of
history:
They hover, swoop down (caw!), then land and run
Along (caw!) lintels of Stonehenge to see
Their nests in the cracks are (caw!) securely done,
Maintaining (caw!) raucus ruckuses among
Themselves, contending, sporting -- (caw! caw! caw!) --
Their call is more ancient than the stones they throng...
Rook, raven, carrion crow, and (caw!) jackdaw...
Is Stonehenge (caw!) an ancient mystery?
So, too, these brawling, cawing birds give pause:
We tossed (caw!) a crust to a mated pair to see
How pairs might fight for food (caw!) among jackdaws.
He pounced and seized it (caw!), which she expected.
Then (caw!) he gave it to her! And she accepted!
A Visit To St. Enodoc In Cornwall
He would come to Cornwall, stay
in Rock,
And worship at St. Enodoc.
Here Sir John Betjeman is laid,
A slate grave-marker guards his head.
We kneel here a moment to reflect,
And to pay to Sir John our fond respect.
Though grass as always gives its grace,
Today no flowers yet cheer his place.
So te deum hum, hum te deum,
While we pick a sprig of valerium,
And add a spray of tamarisk.
We place them here. A fitting task.
Should we come this way another day,
We'd put bright colors in our bouquet.
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