Sonnet: Against Magpies ©

'One is for sorrow,
Two is for Death;
Three shall borrow
Your vital breath'.

Ye bony birds wha joyous sing the morn
Awake, with melody, bright and shrill,
I am your fan, so truth bids me to warn
Ye gentle warblers, of the one who'd kill.

The sweetest throat that Nature bid to sing.
'Tis not Man to fear, nor 'tis Man to flee
'Tis Malevolence formed on feathered-wing!
'Tis the Magpie spying territory.

A General, at war; root, branch and tree,
Where, draped in black and white, he'll guard and vie:
Each egg, each nest and bird's an enemy
Who sings near the loud, chattering Magpie.

Beware, yon axe-like beak, yon evil eyes
And when he stalks you, fly upon the skies!