Her cage empty
the parrot has flown away,
grey in the sun,
prizing freedom above security
risk above lockdowns
She leaves Chwilog behind
disdains the narrow lanes and
crosses forbidden fields
dodging the farmer’s guns
Heading for Pwllheli,
she has booked in
for a holiday at Hafan y Mor,
not knowing the game is over
Posters appear
offering a reward for her recapture:
she has nothing to say –
not on this occasion
Reception is closed,
and as the nights creep in
the silence becomes deeper:
the door is open,
but too far away