I once thought the aerial on her roof Was to give my neighbor better reception But I know now I was wrong. It is there for the blackbird with the white feather in his left wing To have peace and quiet for his nightly serenade. By day his beady eye set on his foraging activities Head down and tail aloft He darts across the lawn To snatch the largest crumb from the smallest sparrow Or the youngest blue tit. But when the first star appears His dastardly raiding now forgotten He seeks my neighbor's roof And a song more glorious than nightingale or lark's Fill the night air As my blackcoated snatcher of green finches' cheese bits and sparrows' crumbs Sings, with unearthly beauty and the sheer joy of song, To his mate. And me.