Category: Birds

Birds of a Feather (a Haiku)

A small moment in the morning sky… a flutter of colour, a whisper of calm, and a reminder of how lightly the world can move when we pause long enough to notice.





Birds of a Feather (a Haiku)


The black and white birds
Fly happily together
A wingspan apart




A quiet nod to harmony — where every feather, every colour, finds its place.



Ivor Steven ©  August 2026

A Fantail’s Flighty Tale, or a Tricky Tail

Sometimes the morning gifts me a little magic.
Yesterday’s wander with Frankie brought a flurry of feathered moments — a Fantail on a rail, a Magpie mid‑grumble, a Mudlark caught in a swirl of tiny bravado. These images arrived with such charm and mischief that the words followed instantly, light as a breeze. What began as a simple set of photos quickly turned into a playful tale of one tiny bird bossing the bigger ones about, all in good humour and whimsy.

The cheeky Fantail and the grumpy Magpie


The twirling Fantail and the brave Mudlark




A Fantail’s Flighty Tale, or a Tricky Tail

I’m not a fiendish tax collector,
nor a fat company director.
I’m not a bossy dictator,
nor a busy Choir conductor.

I’m just a flighty tiny fella
who flits around like a flirty ballerina —
a cheeky little Fantail who unfurls
on the breeze, commander of curls;
Magpie stumbles, Mudlark sighs —
yet all obey my mischievous eyes.





A burst of bright, buoyant energy to match my cheeky Fantail’s playful world — Nick Cave’s “Joy” feels like the perfect musical wink to close this whimsical tale.



Ivor Steven ©  August 2026

Nature’s Honest Sky (a Tanka)

Featured Image Above: Created by Copilot and me.
Where the day opens its wings to truth





Nature’s Honest Sky (a Tanka)


Why retire your wings
When you’re still able to fly
Through the soft white clouds
There in nature’s azure sky
Where the air always feels true




Let this song drift beneath the wings of the poem — a soft score for nature’s honest sky.’




Ivor Steven ©  March 2026

My Journal’s Wings

Over at Weekly Prompts, the Weekend Challenge is the word ‘Journal.’ To visit their fabulous site, please click >> Here


“This morning’s muse — wings caught mid-thought.”



My Journal’s Wings

High above my poetic eye I fly,
where the early birds gracefully glide by
across the bright morning sky.

And in my journal, I pause to ask why
birds become the muses of my word supply—
as if their wings remind me
that thought itself is a kind of flight,
and every line I write
is another way of learning
how to rise.





Ivor Steven ©  January 2026