The Fieldfare

   
Lonely on a crab tree top  
speckled breast and grey-blue head,  
against the melting snow.  
Have you lost your way. . . .?  
You are welcome to round red fruits  
and  pears I threw from the bedroom window.  
Where are your friends? out in the fields?  
Why not tell them of your luck. . .  
sultanas on the lawn at eight  
just as the sun was rising,  
yew and ivy through frosty nights,  
a bath to bathe or drink?  
When you return to northern lands  
tell your mates and families  
there's a welcome waiting here  
no matter what the weather.