Over the clamour
Of birds he says
Now settle down
Now settle down
And they do, absorbed
Into the heads of trees
He takes out his blue pen
He says now Red Mountains
Here sir and upon their backs
He pushes his blue pen
Nudging them under the earth
He says now Yellow Fields
The spears prick up Here sir
He unscrews his blue pen
Flooding them with ink
He says now Green Oaks
They rustle Here sir
He scratches them out
Their splinters on the wind
He works his way around the room
Ticking off the tiny beasties
Crossing off each bird
He leaves the crows till last
He leaves the crows till last
With no song to carry
Even the wind pipes down
Until he comes to me 'but you are not
On the register - you will not sleep'
'I am a new starter,' I say
His blue pen blots out the sun
'Then you have a lot to learn'
