Today the wagtail finally forgot

that I once called it sigl-di-gwt.

It didn't give a tinker's toss,

kept right on rooting in river moss,

(no longer mwswgl) relieved, perhaps,

that someone would be noticing less

about its habits. Magpies' fear of men

lessened, as we'd lost one means

(the word pioden) of keeping track

of terrorist birds out in the back.

Lleian wen is not the same as 'smew'

because it's another point of view,

another bird. There's been a cull:

gwylan's gone and we 're left with 'gull'

and blunter senses till that day

when 'swallows', like gwennol, might stay away

From Keeping Mum Bloodaxe £7.95

The Poetry Book Society recommends

If you enjoy the poetry of Gwyneth Lewis why not try The Big Bumper Book of Troy by WN Herbert, Circumnavigation by Jane Routh and Making the Beds for the Dead by Gillian Clarke.