Birds play war

Morning has broken,

dawn patrol and raids galore.


Jenny Wren dish dashes,

commando – like,

with her tommy gun cackle,

as tits explode amongst the briars.


The blackbird gives its warning call

as wood pigeons glide in,

 streaked like American Mustangs,

D-Day striped.


The sparrows mob the hedgerow bocage;

small arms in the fray

for the bird table.


A Jay gives the siren,

as a sparrow hawk spitfires out of the blue

and the whole avian regiment

bursts for the cover of trees and shrubs.


Up in the altitude,

the buzzard glides,

like a Lancaster bomber,

sighting the targets.


The Thrush bugle calls

the next advance

as starlings invade the green.


A squirrel legs it

“Sod that for a game of soldiers!”


The table is emptied,

and below it looks like carnage,


as birds play war for fun.

◄ Angelsey for sale (2016)

It’s Rock Jim, but not as we know it ►


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