Frenzy.
Drooped in summer a pink-bloomed
hawthorn drowsily straddles the scorched wall of noon.
A blackbird appears, skating through
lawn for live lunch and with beak sharp as blade stoops,
gulps yet again and though drunk on
worm flavour, flaps wildly in heat-haze before pluming
upward over-heavy with extras,
heads away for high climbing, levels out to the roomy
nest site where, still tied to feed, three
baby beaks raise hungry gapes to take fill, then soon
sun-riddled parent will wing off again
Feeding means frenzy until feathering forms,
the hawthorn-leaf shelter breeds extra tasty grains
of nutrition for birds whose chicks ever gorge.
Praise for such diligence bred in nature.