Tag Archives: #Starling

Starling Staring – a declining poem

I saw a starling


at string

in Tring.

‘Ring the RSPB!’

said Rin Tin Tin;

They were not in,

so, I, distracted it.

Grace Darling


What is it, Grace, darling?

What sort of bird are we?

I think that we are called, ‘starlings’, my dear.


Is there a problem, Grace?

No. I just wanted to grow up and be a kingfisher.

Ah, the fisher king – such a fine colouring, almost as beautiful as yours, Grace.

Beautiful? I am a dull shade of slate grey.

Not when you are in the sunlight, Grace; then you are without doubt the most beautiful of all birds.