This is another poem written for The Guardian Poetry Workshops, appearing there in February 2008. The workshop, written and judged by Jean Sprackland, challenged poets to observe and note sensory details.
The twig so much more than the worm –
she searches for the perfect curve
of limb, perfect fit to twist within
other broken boughs. She fills in drafty gaps
with someone’s lost ribbon – glittered,
shimmering thing plucked from rusty park
bench and made useful. Ignoring the worm,
she gathers instead blades of winter grass
bled of color — convenient components to floor
a quaint home balanced on leafless branches.
I tell her to fly south, tell her life is more
than empty nest, but she spurns my warning
and chirps a practical wisdom that I,
of all people, should know
as I huddle under restroom eaves
eating leaves and drinking
snow. The twig so much more
than the worm.