A Place in the Sun

Dreamt-of-days under sub-tropical skies:
against the high blue,  all birds are black
- even the pretty-in-pink flamingos
bound for salt flats in Cyprus.

Autumn creeps in,
held at bay by sunny days,
two-at-a-time,
between storms and bluster.

No-one expects sunshine
to last forever
and the kingfisher days
will disappear.

Sun glints from lenses high on the mirador,
for once I do not think of field glasses,
but plain binoculars, seeking migrant birds,
following flights with earthbound jealousy.