Three Buzzards
Three buzzards wheeling
over the low slopes.
What are they looking for?
Today I saved a spider's life
from the watering can.
What I want is very simple.
The cuckoo's muffled notes
are a feather duster:
here again; here again. This is enough.
I eat chocolate for breakfast;
discard my nail polish,
my shoes from Mary Quant;
slouch in an old jumper;
hug the radiator with a coffee in my hand;
eschew the predatory.
Five buzzards now. They're revelling
in the glory of spring air.
Eye, heartbeat, talon.
Strip these years off me. Let me
climb my own thermal stair.
Spread my wings in the heat of the sun.
Rebecca Johnson Bista is a writer and artist based in West Cornwall. Her writing has been published in Words With Jam, The Broadsheet, and in Kernow Cornucopia, a pamphlet of West Cornwall poets. She is currently working on a novel set in India.