The annual avian ****
storm-troopers and
Luftwaffe have attacked
allied fortresses
of our smaller
fine
feathered friends --

    Chickadees
       Finches
            &
       Wrens --

and have taken
many of their strongholds
this spring here in the
Far North pillaging
needed and perhaps
unneeded sustenance
from our allies
storehouses leaving
nothing in their wake
but an avian version
of empty nest syndrome.

    These black-clad
     Heckle & Jeckle
    Grackle Gestapo
with their click click
       machine gun
   sputtering sounds

think we don't notice their
clever tricks as they
nonchalantly hop
downward from branch
to branch and shuffle
side-ways on our fence
whistling as they move
one way but their
manipulating gaze at
food supplies plans
another.

But our smaller brave
fine feathered friends
hold their ground to
fight the good fight of
faith propagating
their species as the
human species also
struggles with and
against the odds of
blind and partially
blind instinct.

Goldfinches
And dandelions compete
For yellowest yellow.

An Irishman once had the luck
To find a free chicken to cluck:
     They went to the coop
     Where the chicken would ploop,
But the chicken, turns out, was a duck.

Hawk on a streetlight
Taking a poor man's shower
In the summer rain.

Placid water parts,
Up flies quick, a cormorant;
Epiphanous this!

I am free to sway from my precarious perch
Outstretch my wings of sullen words
And soak up the shadow light
Of another winter’s night

Morning is nigh and blanketed
By dawns lethargic cotton-bally sky
Melodic chirping and the droning on
Of another winter’s morning

The Sun’s warmth has yet to reach my hollow bones
Motionless and afraid
My indignation is not yet complete, reticent
Of another winter’s afternoon

And the light that once illuminated my soul
Has dimmed on this weary day and
I take flight as the red dusk promises the hope
Of another winter’s evening

avian music,
march past of herons follows,
sunset formalized!

Whilst walking down the street
I heard a thunderous tweet;
'Twas a straining little bird
Who couldn't pass a ****.

The little thing was constipated,
Its **** wide dilated;
Tweeting loudly in mid-bog,
Trying to eject a log.

I observed with sympathetic heart
As it trumpeted out a ****;
Straining, chirping loud and long,
Letting off a foul and noisome pong.

I watched for nigh an hour
Its display of **** power;
Then a final intestinal pump
Produced a huge great steaming lump:

A mighty ball of faeces
(a giant of its species,
and total bumhole splitter
which shattered its feathered *******).