... Scoffing Jaffas
Like old kids at the flicks
Little silvereyes gobble biddy-beads of orange
On the cotoneaster bushes by the river
I approach softly
and stop to watch
But see no movement
I crouch down and wait
An amateur ornithologist
A bird-perve
Willing the dog returned to sniff and snuzzle
to get-a-way-back
quick
Then as though a flick is switched
‘Action’ called
The bush becomes alive
All twittery, fluttery
with the occupation of breakfast
of simple winter sustenance
a semi camouflaged smorgasbord
an exotic buffet of berries
When natives don’t provide
In the dim frozen months
Just
Peck an orange bauble
Hold in tip of beak
Tilt head
Open throat
gobble
Swallow
... Scoffing Jaffas
Like old kids at the flicks
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