Casually, the brassiness of your wings,
You sat conversationally beside me
Ready for a bit of a chat
Over your snack
Or were you just
Eyeing off the competition?
The boldness of nobody cares
And the “Jesus!
Did you have to get that upset?
It’s just a strawberry mate!
when I claimed it – and the honeyeater or whatever kind of sweet-toothed bird it was
grabbed a quick nib-full and
somehow I felt guilty, unflock-like
as it flipped its wings
into the wind’s embrace.
Leaving me perched,
splintering my bum on the wooden sleeper
that divides the bed from the garden,
like a shag on a rock