by Derek Hughes

All other birds are silent
when the football season
meets the Sunday morning summer.
A lone cow descants to raucous shouts,
the herd loll in a dappled circle.
You perch upon the hawthorn hedge,
head bouncing sunshine.
A little bit of bread and no cheese.
You deserve more—
bring out the Stilton,
ruffle your feathers in a hoppy ale.