Looping round till it’s a blur 

the falconer swings the weighted lure

beneath the bird, enticing her

to go into a stoop.

With hooking bill and crookéd claw 

and plunging like a meteor

she swipes the fakery to the floor

with a vicious slap of feathers.

Around the crowd, a communal gasp.

The predator’s grappling in its clasp       

the prize, but is the bird a...

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A boisterous assortment of martins, swifts and swallows 

is swirling above the lushly forested hills

of West Amanga, a scatter of soft green pillows.

Wherever a radiant splash

of morning sunlight spills

out through an open window in the cloud,

the canopy emits a plume of steam

and bird calls resound: the rattle of wrens; the loud

cracks of whipbirds; squawks

of parr...

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THE SEAGULLS ARE WATCHING

The Seagulls are watching

They know what you eat

They’ll mug you for something

To shove down their beak

They like a nice pastie

They’ll steal from your lips

They’ll dive bomb and swoop

And nick all your chips

Relaxing in sunshine 

A holiday dream

Then they’ll feather and flap you

And splat your ice...

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