Norfolk poet Kim is hosting tonight’s challenge from dVerse, and – following her selected example, John Clare writing about ‘The Thrush’s Nest’ (wonderful choice, Kim!) – suggests we write

“a sonnet, like Clare’s, if you wish, or any other form of your choice. It must, however, focus on a creature building its home.”

Who am I to be subversive? transgressive? or just plain disobedient?

Lines below I wrote on a Mother’s Day weekend, when home alone.

I witnessed the demolition, opposite our dwelling of 20 years, of a block of single-occupancy flats, that had housed (as I remember) a dozen-or so people.

The demolition was done mostly by a dinosaur-like piece of tackle. It was very messy yet confined (apart from the clouds of dust) within its cage.

After the visit of the Blackbird, first in after a dustbath, the site was used for mini-terraces of single occupancy houses for – ooh – a dozen plus one or two people.



When the flats were demolished -
clawed limb from limb
by the allosaurian digger -

there was a liberation in it,
that jagged skyline that they left
at close of play, 4.30 pm,  Friday.

Come Monday, the structure - gaping wide 
towards the rubble of its own downfall,
yet facing smugly solid to the street -
may have shifted upon its fundamentals.

So I, choosing to stay alone
for Mother's Day, can face its instabilities,
can face our own - as near neighbours,
as arrivals at the Guest House,
as visitors to this “home and aware” -

while on the roof ridge
a blackbird shouts its territory,
flying in where angels fear to tread.

©	Kathy Labrum McVittie   5 March 2016
After the roof perch for Blackbird had gone, and before later rebuilding, overlooked by nesting Rooks.