She'd not been round for weeks...
We thought she'd gone
as suddenly as she'd appeared
that morning
just before Christmas
when our hearts had lifted
at the sight of her.
And then this morning...
There she was again,
walking briskly along the dusty road
as if she owned the place
and beside her
a perfect replica
(quarter size)
a little pea-chick
following his mother like a shadow.
So I was right...
That passionate percussion
of summer honking
was indeed the prelude
to a new composition.
I suppose we'd better call her
Mrs. P from now on?
Alison Cassidy
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/peacock-story-4-quarter-size/
