2 Kingfishers

Kingfisher  (1)

A misty grey,

listless morning.

The kind of morning

favoured by poets.

All mood

and no substance.

Into this child’s crayon etching

came a scratching.

Its whirring wings

soundless.

The speed of it

sealed its passing.

I remember smiling

at the blue and gold

shouting,

Close your eyes!

Close your eyes.

 Kingfisher (2)

Take a hummingbird

and scale it up.

Give it a killer beak

and the sort of showy iridescence

only seen on a teenage peacock

Next, drop in a jet engine

Superhero vision

and most importantly

give it a spy’s anonymity.

Fish will shit themselves

when it sits above them

in stealth mode

motion sensors dialled to max

weapon’s going live.

And people like us

will only ever see one

when we need cheering up.