Communal Bathing (Poetry)

A little milder for a spell —
it has rained in the night
and on the grass outside beneath a tree
a small dew pond glimmers —
throws back a muddy light.

Birds have gathered for their morning feed —
a mixed bunch waiting in a line
for peanuts, scraps of fat and seed.
They swoop and grab like shoppers
in a trolley dash.

A magpie struts up to the pond —
drinks — paddles round the edge
then wading to the middle starts to splash —
enthusiastic in his ablutions
spraying other birds and drawing their attention.

When wet enough, he flaps off
to preen on a nearby branch.
A blackbird jumps right in —
keen to get the dust out of his feathers
dunks his body, spreads his wings
showers quickly for a queue is forming.

Next, a pigeon dips his toes as if
not quite certain of the depth...
he’s being cautious — testing the dull water
then takes the plunge and wallows like
some clumsy bathing belle hogging the pool
and putting on a show
until his fellows tire — eventually throw in
                                a ragged sky’s grey towel.