The Pied Flycatcher

In this cathedral of green so long bare and barren among the sturdy columns of oak and beech a visitor from another land sits patiently, poised. A flick of the wings, the audible click of the beak as it snaps shut on its aerial prey.
The flash of white as the acrobat returns to his perch. A jerk of the tail and the call of chew-it-chew-it. I turn to go, cocooned by songs of the avian choir my mind rested and my soul content as long as this creature, this woodland character, a taste of Africa occupies my world.