As I draw the curtains open,

Looking out onto the day,

Mist obscured the early morning scene.

Sunlight flickers through the dampness,

Picking out a twisting trail,

Of gossamer, across the grass so green.

It seemed that not a thing was moving

On that cool September morn,

Save for that snail meandering on his way.

When suddenly a Magpie,

Appeared out of the mist,

To interrupt the stillness of the day.

They say one Magpie stands for sorrow,

Unless you're very very polite,

And I would hate that fate should cause me any strife.

So I opened up the window,

And beckoned to the bird,

Good morning Mr Magpie, how's the wife?

He flew off, over the bushes,

Bedecked in silver webs,

Like lace doylies, spread out in fine array.

Then overhead the sun appeared,

And birds began to sing,

This was going to be another lovely day. Brian Derbyshire, Ribchester Grove, Bolton

Converted for the new archive on 14 July 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.