I pause at the long window where the stairs turn.
The first hard frost of the season has rimed
the moss on the terrace. A neighbour has thrown,
as she does daily, stale bread on the flat roof
of her garage. Two Jackdaws arrive
then a small flock of Black-headed gulls
in winter plumage. The first comers
are aggressive. The gulls hover, swoop, feint,
feed swiftly, rise, return – like dancers.
(How truly ancient is these animal’s
ancestry! How arriviste we primates are!).