The Year Turn Fablist

The time had come to choose a new king.

The feathered parliament sitting

Its esteemed members, the who’s who

Aristocratic twits

The owls would decide

Listen and vote.

In they came,

The birds.

Hark

 

A cough, a chough, the chaff chaf riff raff

Peering from the cliff gallery.

Commotion and chattering.

Some confusion and then

A murmeration.

What are the grounds?

Make your case.

Begin

Now.

 

It should be a democratic vote.

The winner should be popular

The most favoured of all birds,

Friendly, approachable,

Common or garden,

Easily known,

Heart on sleeve,

Robin

Red.

 

The king should be the one who can sing,

Transcend the ordinary song,

Not twittering or squawking.

Beauty melodious.

Voice harmonious.

Happy. Early.

Ascending

The throne

Lark

 

The king of birds should be a leader

A military general

Prepared, organized and feared

Vicious. Battle ready,

For murder no less

Black heart, keen brain.

Not to brag

But to

Crow

 

It should be decided with a test.

Crown the builder of the best nest.

Elevated, elaborate

Some are bound and soft lined

Some only scrape through

Taught by Magpie

The winner?

The tiny

Tit

 

Rustling, ruffling, the owls considered.

The wisdom of democracy?

Or territory and privilege?

Solemnly they pronounce,

"On what we are known

and most envied,

we will judge.

Fly high,                                               

King."

 

Flocks gather to watch the contenders.

Linnet Limbers, Swallow stretches,

Kite waits, calmly confident,

The gull is impatient.

But wait, who is this?

Audacious wren!

On your marks,

Get set,

Go!

 

The birds take off over hedge and roof

Wings flap, hearts beat, wind rushes past

Flying higher, and higher

Silhouettes in the blue

Outlined by the clouds

Streamlined feathers flash

Determined

Resolved

Strong

 

 Linnet is fast but cannot reach

Kite climbs up with grace and ease

Swallow is flying high

But with swoops and dips

Kite soars above

Gull gets bored

And wren?

Gone

 

The kite screeches in triumphant joy

Glorious and victorious!

But exhausted by effort

The Kite starts to descend

Hidden on his back

Round brown body

Now flies up!

The wren

wins!

​

Original illustration Wren © Sophie White, 2023 @sophiewhitestudios​

‘The King of the Birds - A Nonet’ © K. Amelia Gledhill 2022

The right of Amelia Gledhill to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced without the prior permission in writing of the author.