Dear blackbird
Let me have a feather from your wing
It will become my quill
In exchange I will sit silently
And listen to you sing

Take my wickedness
In your little yellow beak
Hold it as a stone
Before dropping it into the lake
At the break of dawn

Soar in circles
Tracing the ripples
Until you become weak
Then return to me
So together we can sleep. 
Clare Kinnaird, 2024.