ST FRANCIS OF CASTLEFIELDS

He’s out again in his back yard,

an elderly and gentle man,

who scatters hands of crumbs for birds.

The dusty sparrows mob the ground,

as starving people seize relief

off backs of lorries in dry lands.

And, later, robins, chaffinches

drop down, afraid of cats and crowds,

hostility of starlings, wrens.

His love would spread to feed them all:

flamingos, parrots, ostriches,

and all the needy, suffering world.