SNOW WHITE

(Admire the lovely but not so Disney manure help the farmer gifted to us at the other side of the field! Thank goodness it’s not hot at the moment…)

On an icy morning without a view,

Just the dark silhouettes of trees on a yellow-grey background,

Yet bright enough to offer a promise of blue,

I ventured outside in my pyjamas

As I always do,

With a jug filled with bird-breakfast.

I lifted the top off the little wooden chimney

On top of their bird-chalet

To deliver their seed, Santa-like,

When, suddenly, dozens of birds began to dance around me.

Round and round they whirled,

Fluttering tiny fluffy feather at me,

While singing what I imagined

To be a song of gratitude.

I enjoy thinking

I resembled a weirdo Snow White,

Albeit without the signature bright-red lipstick of course,

Totally bedheaded

In grunge-chic blue and white leopard-print pjs,

And my mud-speckled Greek-blue Crocs.

I eschewed the trilling, however,

Which in retrospect is a bit of a shame

As I’d gargled just a little earlier,

And my voice would have been

Disney Princess perfect.

Buy me some more bird seed!