A Poem A Day 21

Spring Doctrine

The wattle birds are nesting

in our neighbour’s garden.

I know, because Mr. Wattle

has been terrorising our cat.

The cat does not know, or

understand the reason for

the plummeting dives that

aim and repeat, relentless

at his sleepy, feline head.

He is a dullard cat, slow

of limb and reason.  Small threat

to any chicks.  But in the ideology

of bird, he is Enemy; foul progeny

of a bloodstained history,

and the bird, in its small

brain, knows one thing only:

The blasphemy of cat must

be destroyed.  So with dedicated

zeal, the feathered terrorist

wears himself witless harrying

our fat cat.  Hunger and fatigue

have no consequence; his

sacrificial duty all-consuming. 

He bonds himself to death, a

winged prayer of destruction, as

the hapless moggy ducks

his head in puzzlement.

Kerry Miller

A couple of springs ago, a wattle bird dedicated himself to eliminating our cat.  The idealistic zeal he displayed was remarkable. On a couple of occasions, he even entered the house, chasing the cat.   It struck me then, as a good subject for a poem, but I didn't actually write it down until now.