Adele Evershed
March 1933
Even in that curved time I thought it wondrous to see
the rusted eye of the bird
a code etched on its bronze wing of faded numbers
—was this so it could find its way home?
in the grey foreshadowing of a darker day I smiled at the absurdity of its beak
long and sharp as scissors—it might easily cut through buttons or bones
soon the stripy shadows slid—laying a cold carpet on the yard
and it was time for me to go
a hundred, hundred eyes were blinking at my back
but as I did not turn I did not see
I only heard a song—as old as the robin
Bio
Adele Evershed writes poetry and prose. Originally from Wales she has lived in Hong Kong and Singapore before settling in Connecticut with her family. Her poems can be found in various anthologies and online in Rainbow Poems, Three drops from a Cauldron, Flash Fiction North and The Fib Review.