Four young magpies, brothers, sat upon the porch roof this morning.
Squabbling, squawking, pecking the tiles.
Wicked, so they are. Lads and louts.
Waiting to see what I will do.
I go to the window.
But I get there before they see,
Chuckling with delight at the four young bucks
Performing on the roof.
‘Whooooosh!’ I hiss loudly from the window.
A flurry of black and white and shining blue
Squawking, chattering, screaming, laughing.
‘We got her!’ they call to each other.
‘We got her’.