Crows

A mob
of hooded teens
just hangin' out with friends,
two fingers raised in defiance
like beaks.

Peacocks

A pride
of wedding guests
parade across the lawn
in their fascinators, white ties
and tails

Swallows

A gulp,
a sad goodbye,
the flutter of passports,
tickets and tissues – they’re ready
to fly.

Indian Runners

A twack
of skin on wood;
feathers cover the crease.
The batsman leaves the field, out for
a duck.

Jackdaws

A train
of grey-haired men
in business suits and scarves,
full of chirks and squawks about stocks
and shares.

Pigeons

A loft,
overlooking
the square where the grey-haired
old woman sleeps with her bundle
of rags.

Nightingale

A watch
on his tunic
marks the end of the shift.
He walks home singing and swinging
his lamp.

Jan Harris

The first line of each of these cinquains is a collective noun for that type of bird.

If you have any comments on these poems, Jan Harris would be pleased to hear from you.