Cherries ripening on the Morello tree,

Carefully watched by Blackbird and me,

Who will be first to gather the crop?

Close by she sits, watching the shop!

To my garden I went down,

Not one cherry to be found,

She has eaten them all

And cleaned up the stall!

But it’s hard to get cross

Even over this loss,

Because she brightens each day

In her own special way.

My garden is filled

With the music she’s trilled,

For she sings all day long

And so sweet is her song.

Her payment in berries

Of my sweet juicy cherries

Is a small price to pay

For sweet birdsong so gay.

Jackie S Brooks
29 June 2003