We embarked upon a walk
In gentle moonlight, by the Seine
But soon we heard the fatal squawk
To put us off our path – villain!
What hearts had borrowed from the scene
Was shattered, splattered by such mean
And unromantic-minded birds
That flew above us, unobserved
‘Til covered in confusion, rank
With dripping bird lime, clothing stank
And all about us, chaos lay
The puddled blitzkrieg, green and grey
I don’t suit spots, or rather they
Do not fit me, though garish, gay
This leopard-print lies round my neck
To warn off those whom sport would wreck
With vulgar overtones and spoil
A wilderness of threadbare toil
Nay, not to fashion can I cleave
Where company requires alleviation
Of monotony made up of rows
And rows of me.
My cat is not a member
Of the RSPB
He sits on the sill
Watching and waiting
For fledglings to flop
And fall out of their nest.
The robin that visits
My hanging bistro
For a quick and seedy
Beakful of millet
Pales at his shadow
And flutters away
Avoiding the sharp claws
And sadistic purr
Of the resident bouncer.
The bird-like appetites
Of my feathered clientele
Vanish, as tense and flighty
They fall prey to silence
The predator’s presence
Betrayed by the twitch
Of a whisker
The gently flicking tail
Of the sleek, well-groomed
Panther in the window
Leave the berries for the birds to eat
They’re poisonous and none too sweet.
Though red and round and juicy-looking
Even with a lot of cooking
These will make you feel quite ill
So heed me child, and do not steal
What God did not create for thee!
I’ve told you once, now let them be!