You clap your hands
Fiercely
like a bitter drum
And the magpie takes off in monochrome scorn.
You do not notice the petroleum black,
Tear of the rainbow feather
Drifting beside the fence and
Settling on the mown grass
A glisten of miracle.
A child picks it up
And looks with new and dazzled eyes
At the transitioning colours of magic
She holds it to the sun
And to the shadow deep earth
And puts it in her pocket.
She understands the nature of treasure
She has not learned to hate the commonplace
She believes in the beauty of magpies
Do you?
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