Poems for MySpace

Next doors’ grass had greened
and the honeyed light of autumn
spread thickly over thirsty trees
not quite ready to turn.
I heard her ugly honking.
Incongruous really,
considering the feathered charm
and pert uprightness
of her maternity.
Her four new chicks
were cute and ping-pong light -
their day old voices peeping,
their new legs creeping
like ants around her.
Next day she honked again -
but alas, too late!
My canine scavenger
was sunning herself
guiltily on the back step -
a mouthful of feathers
the only evidence of her crime.
Miss P honked again
and strode aggressively up the drive.
Her sole surviving chick
scuttling after her.
A few days later
I heard her honking sadly.
This time she walked alone.