birdsong

I knew that they weren’t sparrows, from the jinks in their flight. As I grew closer, the russet ruff grew clearer. Chaffinches. To my right, a collared dove.

Further down the path, the flash of greenfinches caught my eye amid the spuggies and the starlings, the blackbirds and blue tits. As ever, the crows and the gulls were fighting it out on the scrub by the swimming baths, as the wagtails jittered around surreptitiously. A magpie in the distance. And a robin, bellicose as ever, on the way home.

And they ask why I’m happier here?