I saw young sparrows dance,
As I sat in my chair,
Each small, twitchy, bird glanced
At me, and everywhere. 
I too worry about
The threat of predation
They, through instinct, straight out,
Me through trepidation.
Flitter from the hedgerow,
To nut holder and back,
Each journey from get go
Fraught, like a heart attack.
Next doors cat nonchalant,
Like me, oblivious.
All that mog could e’er want
Spiralled lascivious.
I sip julep waiting
Till within grasp I fall,
Sparrow, online dating.
Dancing? No, not at all.

Harry Rogers, In the hut, Aberbanc: 4th November 2016. Edited 16th May 2021.

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