Spring Offensive.

Daffodil regiments line the road
a pageant of yellow ranks stand
four rows thick; spring’s shining
army, heads held high to the sun.

Beyond the road, across a field where
tall trees guard the distance;
in the warm air that holds a hint of winter,
Magpie squadrons fly.

Through hatchling leaves they precision
plunge into enemy held hedgerows,
hurling the weak from their nests
killing for their kind.

By May the carnage is complete.
The big birds have their way and
the mutilated young of the fled or
dead, lie strewn in the field.


The Magpies leave for other fields
their winged shadows cross the road;
where another rotten generation
bow their heads to the ground.