May 23rd, 2026Local Lines
A Winter Meditation
“For the poor wren, the most diminutive of birds, will fight, her young ones in
the nest, against the owl.” Lady Macduff. Shakespeare’s Macbeth.
Diminutive wrens flitting from ground to tree
On freezing cold mornings, in furious southerlies
Along with the thorn-bills and red fire-tail finches
You tiniest of birds in these grim winter pinches
Searching for food when your whole world lies dormant
Living out life in each hard earned instalment.
At night in the hedgerows you ache to keep warm
With foxes and cats and rats on the swarm.
As I grizzle and grumble my way through the garden
Rugged up and well fed you exhort me to harden
my spirit, my reason, my will and my might
As you work from the dawn then into the night.
You bustle around my verandas all day
And talk to me, gladden me, brighten my way.
I honour you, look to you, to you raise my cup
To your fragile existence which you never yield up.
– Tom Perfect
Tom Perfect loves reading in his garden in Glenlyon where he is surrounded by an endless array of birds. He also loves rhythm and rhyme in poetry.
