Up Where The Crows Nest (Poetry)

A high-rise bedlam
all caw-caw and flap
neighbours in riot
no chance of a nap
stick city’s black blot

on pale evening sky
so randomly built
a mishmash of twigs
complete with mad tilt
each architect not

the fussiest bird
and hardly house-proud
too clumsy by far
this roustabout-loud
disorderly lot

An avian crowd
of jostle and shout
they mass in tall trees
push-shoving about
and care not one jot

for who goes below
their world in the sky
little escapes them
they keep a sharp eye
the first birds to spot ...