A choir of magpie’s perch on the rails,
Warming their voices and learning their scales,
Their mother arrives with her full throated call,
The household becoming her own concert hall,
Obedient I rise, as if on demand,
To give her the breakfast her call commands,
The family alights and lands down on the ground,
To gobble the food I have strewn all around,
They return to the tree and sing once again,
A song of thanksgiving,
That will never end.