AT BREAKFAST
Blackbirds soar across
The al fresco cafeteria,
Alight on a plate of melon,
Dance on it, pick at it
And squabble about it
Until the diner approaches
And we consider whether
We should advise the lady
That her fruit has been pre-
Tasted and appreciated.
At last pity prevails.
We warn her of her visitors’
None too sanitary intrusions.
She settles for an espresso.
Leave a Reply