BREAKFAST

There’s a tree in my neighbour’s garden,

It’s much bigger than all the rest.

It holds about a hundred birds

That put it to the test.

 

Each morning, fluffy starlings squeak

And squawk a loud demand

That their mother brings them raisins

From the wooden birdfeed stand.

 

They bounce on bowing branches,

They refuse to flap and fly,

But mother says “It’s tough bananas,

You won’t learn ‘til you try.”

 

At once, they find their wings do work

But not for seeds or fruit;

A warbling cry comes piercing

From an iridescent suit.

 

The babies dive for safety

As the magpie struts around,

He’s got his beady eyes on breakfast:

A chick stuck on the ground.

 

Her fluffy down can’t hide her now,

She’s helpless, frozen still;

The great black wingspan widens

As he dives in for the kill.

 

Suddenly, in swoops Supermum,

Her glittering feathers diving,

Their two beaks clash together

In their war of screams and writhing.

 

Mr Magpie finally backs away,

The starlings spared their sorrow.

She might have won the battle today…

But he’ll be back tomorrow.

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