Blackbird Speaks
My garden sycamore marks time,
branches setting church and house horizon.
A blackbird bathes in jet guttering,
‘This is not yesterday’s dawn’.
The creep of traffic and the sun
inching behind a tower-block sky.
Stars descend past planes flying
somewhere distant, somewhere else.
Shereen Abdallah ©
Sky Trees 2017
Bonnie Braw Press 
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