Magpie in the Morning
I throw a cursory glance
From my open window
And a magpie strides across the lawn
Poking about in the grass for grubs,
A big, proud, beautiful bird.
In the spring sunlight
Long, strong tail feathers
Lift and hold as it bends its head
And prods the dirt for food.
Its black plumage is a brilliance
Of bright blue and green and purple.
I watch as it swaggers about
In complete control of the world.
Human invention, however fine,
Can only copy such magnificence.