Voice of the morning
You bounced from the grass
And once on the table
Your marble eye cast
Over our picnic,
As if to say:
“I’ve come dressed to dine
So let’s not delay!”
Black and white bird
With a shimmer of green
Such confident gatecrashing
I haven’t seen.
Your throaty vocal
Warbles away:
“I said, let’s eat without delay!”
So you joined us for lunch
And we ate very well
You praised with your thanks:
“The meal was just swell.”
Perhaps we shall see you<
One of these days
Continued success
With your gatecrashing ways.
© Jim Low
Smoky first rode into my life on the radio airwaves, astride his palomino, the wonder horse Flash. As a child in the 1950s, there was no better way to spend a Thursday evening than glued to the radio listening to another adventure of “Hup, Flash, hup, hup, hup… Smoky Dawson”.