Poem for the month

selected by David Underdown, who writes the footnote

Sexing the woodpecker

by Jane Routh

Black nape – female you say, passing the binoculars
and doubling the garden’s population. She’s flown
before I’ve sketched the pattern on her tail.

Years ago, on the way to work, Don said
Take the hill road; look: temperature inversion –
you’ve the perfect valley for these fogs.

There’s always so much more to find out.
No river runs straight more than ten times
its own width. The uplift one wingbeat

gives to another. Turbulence generates eddies.
Random’s an idea that’s useful
only when you’ve no interest in the world.

I wish my neighbour would stop telling me
why she wants to kill her husband.
It’s a different reason every week.

Jane Routh manages woodland and a flock of geese in the Forest of Bowland, North Lancashire and was one of the commended poets in this year’s McLellan Poetry Competition. This poem is taken from her 2010 collection ‘The Gift of Boats’ published by Smith/Doorstop Books. Her poems are rooted in practical observations of people and the natural world but are often tender, thoughtful and, as in this case, blackly humorous.