Maggie Munro

Natural History

Lowered eyes, every footfall soundless,
bony shoulders rise and fall as pistons
And strike! Death is delivered,
the quarry stilled in an instant.

Jaws clench on feathers, bone and sinew
Whiskered muzzle nudges aside the door
Huzzar! A gift of feline adoration;
You somehow seem to be displeased?

Deep beneath that languid silky coat
combed, luxuriant, the colour of disdain,
Who cares! Back upright, regal, tail flickers,
ears flatten, craving words of praise.

Here they come, 'Not the budgie! ! ! ! '
The chase is on! Feathers, fingers, fur and claw,
Outside! The little lifeless scrap of blue retrieved,
A reproachful yellow stare fixes you.

Busy Monday morning at Pre-school,
The birdcage is returned to the classroom
He's green! The children marvel at the bird's new clothes,
Amazing how a weekend can renew.

Submitted: Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Edited: Saturday, November 24, 2012

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

I have to wonder how many mothers have been similarly traumatised by their children bringing the school budgie home for the weekend.

Comments about this poem (Natural History by Maggie Munro )

  • Gold Star - 6,808 Points Bri Edwards (12/20/2012 10:05:00 PM)

    i've got a sneaky (well, not TOO sneaky) feeling that the last to comment before this comment did miss something important in your storytelling. well, it was important at least to the lifeless scrap of blue. beautifully done says this bird watcher. i had a parakeet as a boy in New York State, u.s.a., before the doctor said i was allergic to chocolate and feathers. i don't think it was true; it isn't today! anyway my birdie fell victim to the cat at the church family's house it was given to.
    one question please. Here they come refers to? the words of praise? the fingers, claws, etc.? or the little children? or? i'll have to put this first-of-your-poems-read-by-me into my mypoemlist. thanks for sharing. b.e. (Report) Reply

  • Gold Star - 7,386 Points Lyn Paul (11/27/2012 6:02:00 AM)

    Love your words Maggie. Glad birdie was taken back alive. I was fortunate to only have to care for stuffed Larry Lion. (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 38 Points Ruby Honeytip (11/26/2012 7:14:00 AM)

    Oh no! ! ! Poor birdie!
    This is really, really well written...also the reason I don't stick my hand up for pet sitting lol x (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 116 Points Terry O'leary (11/23/2012 5:34:00 PM)

    Very nice poem about one (of many of) life's little tragedies... well done Maggie... Terry (Report) Reply

  • Rookie Owain Glyn (11/22/2012 6:04:00 AM)

    Ah, these bloody Cats again! If only we could renew ourselves every Monday morning.........Maybe we do? (Report) Reply

  • Gold Star - 28,919 Points Gajanan Mishra (11/20/2012 6:11:00 AM)

    How a weekend can renew- good poem
    I invite you to read my poems and comment.
    Gajanan Mishra (Report) Reply

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