Nick DrakeUKWriting2005

My name is Gubbio;
you named me
after a hill town of stone;
I prefer my intricate dark tree
like a conundrum
by the castle window.
I admit i screech
like your untuned radios;
it's because i love the sun
but cannot appear in it;
and when it slips
out of the long grasp of the light
I miss it, i am jealous.
My head swivels through
360 degrees,
my black eyes note everything
in the detailed dark,
i am whiter than an angel,
the exact colour of the moon.
My feathered throat is noble
although I cannot sing
like the nightingale;
but my cry is true.
I am gufo, you are man.
Perhaps we will meet again
at the castle window.
I will not forget you.
My name is Gubbio.