Remembering Puck’s Eden With Kipling

Birdcall floats from tree to tree
While hanging leaves spin windily
They’re nicking fruit where it sprouts
On branches growing down and out

Thrush thrash branches between their beaks
And dance up dirt with taloned feet
While Minors signal, in piercing notes
In sharp alarm from echoed throats

Fantail bounce among the berries
The bramble-crown of ring-bound faeries
Who speak the tongue of birdish runes
And sing along, their fluting tunes
Warnings not for feathered wings
“Beware, you humans” — that’s what they sing

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