She always does,
when they hop along the street
neighbours popping in for a tea and chat
she listens to them
with a curious wrinkled brow
lips teased by front teeth.

Her skill at listening
heeding the eyes and voice
of magpies and spirits
her time-free patience
makes children
of us all.

When she sees a magpie
it’s my father’s spirit
coming to say hello
to check all is well
to tell a joke as only a magpie
in that warble can tell.

She loved my father,
not for his smile
or the gifts always bestowed
but because in her world of chaos
and horrid voices without relent
he bequeathed calm.

The world is a better place
for magpies, she says, their song
unique among birds, captures
sunrise and calls down the night
conferring peace in a world
too ready to be tumultuous.