The Thrush

Inspired by Charles ‘Chuck’ Roast’s recent haiku experience.

I often marvelled at these wondrous three liners. Yet it wasn’t until Chuck wrote A Haiku by Chuck Roast that I fully understood how to write one. At least I hope I do.

I was on my way to work at a call centre yesterday when I saw a thrush with a decent-sized piece of moss in its beak.

It stopped still on the pavement.

I stopped still too, hoping it would carry on about its nest-building business.

We contemplated each other for a moment, I was holding my breath.

It abandoned the moss and swooped up and into a nearby hedge.

I continued on up the hill past the blackbirds and rabbits. There were no deer that day. But a few days earlier, my colleagues and I had spotted two white backsides bounding around the wasteland outside our office windows.

Another observation on the change in local habits is the astounding lack of plastic containers and wrappings.

The main items thrown onto the streets or into hedgerows are now blue rubber, yellow latex or white vinyl gloves. No doubt discarded negligently by the people who are either disgusted with their new occupations or who are too ignorant to dispose of them responsibly in one of the many bins available to do so.

Sometimes, in the mad dash to leave the office and make it to the bus stop on time, I take mine home in my pocket only to bring them back into the office the next day to take advantage of their specially designated plastic glove bin.

To help my fellow call takers, I suggested to the team leader that a bin near the exit in the building might be helpful to everyone.

I wait with bated breath to see the result on Monday.

The Thrush

A thrush gathers moss

but drops the nest camouflage:

at the giant’s feet.

The exercise was fun. It was also another of Dr Yildez’s challenges to get us out of our comfort zones. A Haiku, tick!

If you like my snazzy new decorative border (or section break — there doesn’t seem to be a name for these beauties) you’ll find 7268 others to choose from here.