The birds in Nunhead Cemetery begin <br />Before I've flicked a switch, turned on the gas. <br />There must be some advantage to the light <br /> <br />I tell myself, viewing my slackened chin <br />Mirrored in the rain-dark window glass, <br />While from the graveyard's trees, the birds begin. <br /> <br />An image from a dream survives the night, <br />Some dreck my head refuses to encompass. <br />There must be some advantage to the light. <br /> <br />You are you I mouth to my shadow skin, <br />Though you are me, assuming weight and mass — <br />While from the graveyard's trees, the birds begin: <br /> <br />Thrush, blackbird, finch — then rooks take fright <br />At a skip-truck and protest, cawing en masse. <br />There must be some advantage to the light, <br /> <br />Or birds would need the gift of second sight <br />To sing Another year will come to pass! <br />The birds in Nunhead Cemetery begin, <br />There must be some advantage to the light.<br /><br />Maurice Riordan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-january-birds/
