Saturday, March 1, 2014

Covey

My backyard view
grew one, then two
grey partridge.
Pick and peck
some grainy speck,
some tasty smidge.
Three, and four,
five, six or more
plump, slate ridge-
patterned, seethed
around the floor
like woodlice when
you lift a stone.
Eight, nine or ten?
I lost count. One
saw the dog. Two
ran. All flew. Gone.