SILENT FOOTBALL

Now that the brood has flown the coop
we sometimes have a peaceful evening,
put on the music we like, Linda reads
while I watch football with the sound turned down.
Robbed of vocal frenzy, the match takes on
a new dimension, falcons versus gulls
languidly wheeling on the field of play.
Fluid changes of direction, goal-bound bursts
of peregrine acceleration, one moment solitary,
the next bickering for a spheroid morsel
snatched from foot to foot. Contestants
clash and fall. Referee drops kestrel sharp
on an offender, ruffles his plumage,
threatens migration with a coloured card.
Trainer, all wet sponge & nestside manner,
sponges the earthbound fledgling,
whilst jostling flocks on terraced crags display
distinctive woollen plumage at the throat,
direct dumb insolence towards the ref,
warble mute anthems, mouth obscenities
and muffled slogans at opposing rookeries.
The game restarts. My phone intrudes.
A corncrake voice solicits interest in
double glazing. Snapping his sales pitch short,
I swing back to the action. Play continues,
but there's some fresh impetus. One team
has scored, but which? I've missed a goal!
Was there an instant replay? Linda shrugs,
I lunge, cursing, for the remote control.

Poems
Silent Football
The Big Kick Off

Background
Biog