a baby magpie
is confused
more grey than black
a juvenile stub
for a beak
he has encountered
a glass pane
leaned at an angle
to the plant box
beyond the pane
is a succulent
morsel
at first
he is content
to explore
by lowering his head
reaching
underneath
the edge of the glass
then
a peck
aimed directly at the morsel
through the glass
no
a step backward
brings new perspective
suddenly
there is another magpie
in the glass
a stumble
an ungainly roll
a shake of the head
a ruffle
of feathers
and another morsel beckons
elsewhere
© Frank Prem, 2016
Poem #22: rough love
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