Dad fills his bird feeder with seed

Surely a caring, kindly deed

He watches birds flock to the tree

Finches and rosellas feed in harmony

But sudden squawking heralds the charge

Of cockatoos, brash and large

With ease they drive away the rest

Yellow feathers flare like a centurion’s crest

Like Godzilla grasping at a battleship

They almost make the feeder tip

And in the wake of their degustation

Leave a scene of desolation.