It started as a carport; nothing grand:
A failing structure, you must understand:
The tree trunks rotted that it stood upon.
Another year and it would all be gone.
My car parked underneath, I feared for so
That it was plain that it would have to go.
But other things were stored within its maw;
Things that were great for little teeth to gnaw.
And so the back became a sanctuary
For creatures of the night, but not for me.
And John put up a fine partition wall
To separate and reinforce it all.
The thing about the building was the sun.
It was a trap from dawn till day was done.
Windows went in, a table and some chairs.
And pictures. We knew how to give us airs.
Now it has lights, the solar panel kind.
A sweeter refuge would be hard to find.
But when I brought my early morning tea,
There was a quite delightful shock for me.
A baby blackbird squatted on the ground.
I watched from several yards, without a sound
As from the trees his parent came with food.
How could I interrupt? It would be rude.
And so I chose another place to sit.
The bandstand was nearby and that would fit.
That chick would grow to steal my fruit away.
But that’s a battle for another day.
©Ruth Twyman Lockyer April 2014