The jackdaws are calling from out of the woodland <br />They lurk in the branches there hidden from sight, <br />While scanning the ground where the food now is scattered <br />Yet covered they rest in the shade of the night, <br />They swoop in a flash and then gone in a moment <br />With stealth and with cunning pass almost unseen, <br />Then again to the treetops to dwell in the shadows <br />To peer to the ground through the leaves that are green. <br /> <br />They stare at the scrub and the bushes beneath them <br />Like thieves of the darkness now ready to steal, <br />Their cloaks are of black with their grey hoods concealing <br />Their image and features no shame do they feel, <br />They swoop once again in the safety of numbers <br />And into the open they land on the floor, <br />In silence they stalk and then gather like reapers <br />The scraps in their beaks as they head off once more. <br /> <br />To return to the peace and the shade of the woodland <br />With rustle of branches to which they now cling, <br />They then fly away in the skies far above me <br />Then soar to the clouds as they sail on the wing, <br />They travel like gypsies away on their journey <br />Not seeming to settle or finding a home, <br />From pillar to post they go constantly searching <br />As over the land and the country they roam.<br /><br />ANDREW BLAKEMORE<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-jackdaws-are-calling/
