Shrieks rose up into the morning air
The light jagged from the diving beaks
And the flapping of wings. War had been declared
No causes were given but the gang was in on it.
Feathers fluttered, flapped, the victim
Dodged and turned pecked and parried
Clung to the ground its wings spread
Awkwardly on the stones as it fought and cried.

No mercy was given, no pity intervened
The busybody quails pecked and ran, pecked and ran
The mockingbirds fluttered a foot into the air
And down and flapped and called to no-one
Young grackles squawked and cried and strained
Murder was being done. Death was in the air .

Wounded like a dying man on an old movie set
The victim plunged into the innards of a low bush
Hiding itself among the leaves waiting for death.
More squawking, more fury, more desperation
Then silence, the deed was done. Quiet resumed
All left, clicking their beaks nodding and
Smoothing their feathers and quiet resumed.
Walking down Voltaire towards Joan de Arc
I wondered what I was called to witness.

A hummingbird whizzed up high into the sky
Hanging then darting, a tiny drone
Sewing its parabolas of light.
God's spy reporting back to HQ
Taking notes, I thought
The sun came up to have a look
And a new day on earth rose to meet the morning.