Are returning to the suburbs
in droves
There are green lawns
full of succulent worms
and the only predators
a cat and magpie
would never turn them
into a blackbird pie.

From dawn to dusk
they sing their heads off
proclaiming their territory.

Jets thunder,
trucks and scooters
roar continuously
an insessant noise
blankets the soundwaves.

during a lull
the blackbird is heard
singing along
never missing a beat
oblivious
to the noise polution
around him.
 
The occasional poet,
lyrical writer,
is like onto the blackbird
in this back yard of Athens
called the poets league.