Book XVIII: Goose

maybe northern by name
but not supposed to be here

it's getting a little chilly, no?

the formations are grounded
stuck here unknowing
not knowing which way the sun falls

might as well laze about
there is nothing to consume

the formations are grounded
stalled here unknowing
not knowing which way
the polar winds blow

Book XVII: Snow

come as they go
white as you know
freezing the days
blocking the ways

the leaves are still falling
but darkness is calling
till sunshine comes out
blinds eyes all about

come as they will
touching down on the hill
assault on winds blow
white as you know

Book XVI: Cougar

You don't belong down here.

You wander down from time to time
but it's not your place
it's not your space

we'd rather not
see your face

You venture down here now and then
but it's not your right to start a fight

you'd better not prowl in the light
or we'll be in a world of fright

you don't belong
get out of sight!
you don't belong down here.

Book XV: Sunflower

Off a porch's steps or in a window box
Rising up from the soil with a face to light
Are these city gangsters to rock your socks!
You know that these rebels will do it right.

What is it that makes them so badass?
Standing so tall, staring down like the one
Staring up in their smugness, behaviour so crass
As they soak in the rays of the rising sun.

Unblinded they own the sky, bright and uncouth
Still not caring at all of the hustle and bustle
While dealing the snack dominating your mouth
Watch the gangsters gang up without moving a muscle.

Book XIV: Ladybug

cute little foreigner
more orange than the past
the moderate alert
of a new invader

not very spotty
new waves upon waves
every time the sun shines
the conquest unfolds

fiercely
biting
locals

deceptive façades
walls crawling in orange
a more than spotty invasion
by a new invader

Book XIII: Centipede

you really freak me out

scurrying about top speed
outrunning rolled-up magazines

owning the walls
like you're paying the mortgage

on the pest prowl
silencing the weaker

you really freak me out

running uncontested
owning the house

Book XII: Blue Jay

air

raid

siren

blares overhead
as he comes down

screaming down

attacking the feeder
in violence
in obnoxiousness

tall

blue

crest

flares overhead
as he comes down

screaming town

Book XI: Seagull

a naval force
always far from the sea

asphalt and yellow lines
as good a resource

why dive under
when the litter's on top?

a resource as valuable
worth holding the post

conquering the land
a force from the sea

Book X: Grass

upright and proud
none could envy
as none could be greener

standing tall
standing over
holding ground
sheltering units

defending the very soil

they watch as the blades slash
they won't lose their heads

they face the blades in silence
they stand tall
they hold their ground

upright and proud
none could envy
home
protector.

Book IX: Raven

when the sun is high
there is only darkness
as the trees cry murder

the skies cry murder

the valley cries foul
as the darkness descends
in screech and skitter

a brainy battalion
a gregarious gang
a shadowy shroud

a murderous mass

the darkness descends
to consume the refuse
that life left behind

Book VIII: Chipmunk

scampering away
a streak of white, a flash of gold
looting

looted

loaded
puffed up
puffed out
forthright
out of sight

there's no law
the fight is on
the guard is off

it's just sitting there

for the taking
the stashing
the hoarding

one's own indulgences
indulgently looting

indulgently looted
a ghost of gold, a wisp of white
scampered away

Book VII: Ant

Lug
Haul
Carry away

The supply chain counts on you.

Unsecured convoys
march in file
march to stay
alive.

You march
in file
to keep
a promise

to logistics
to demand
to supply
a queen
a society

a whole world under

a front
lawn.

Lug
Haul
Carry up the hill

The world counts on you.

Book VI: Dove

Squeak squeak squeak
you're not exactly stealthy.
The others might give you something to lament.

But you're not depressed.
You're wide awake.
You know what they're up to.

They're up to nothing
to sadden you.

It's hard to be sad
when nobody's after you.
It's easy to squeak squeak squeak
when the others listen
through deep-set eyes.

So you will squeak with a flutter
bringing sorrow to our eyes

slyly mourning objector
of the subdivision.

Book V: Raccoon

The lights are out now
when the day goes blind
to the absence of security
around the garbage cans.

They don't care to strike
without leaving a trace
as they will have long gone
by the light's scaling up.

Their raid
will be
the morning's problem.

They will have their fill
and satisfy their needs
in the forests of people
built up on their lands.

The law has long changed here
but no one will say to them
they cannot adapt well
to their new rulers' tyranny.

The methods have changed
but the end is the same
figured out by the raiders
in the driveways at night.

Book IV: Inchworm

I can get around.

You might call it a rotting wooden fence.
I call it my home turf.
I can make any way around it
Any way I want
And you won't stop me.

My musculature is perfect
For this sort of thing
And if you think otherwise
I'll stand up
To the challenge
And stare you down
You giant bully.

You can't traverse a fence
Like I do.
Maybe you move faster
But I get the job done.

That's the main thing.
I do what I have to do.

I get around.

Beat that, bully.

You can mess with me all you want
But I'll keep on going
Stretching
Pulling
Accomplishing my own objectives

In your face

On my fence.

Book III: Robin

He stands.

Puffy
Red
Proud.

He gazes from the boulevard
Out at the street
Nonchalantly
Through deep black eyes
Set in matte black feathers.

He is the hunter.

He engages in reconnaissance
And moves in for the capture

In one

Fell

Swoop.

The earthworm
Slow
Defenceless
Delicious
Is the prize
Like a trophy
In his beak.

He stands nonchalantly
But he is boasting.
He is showing off
His kill
His chest
His head
His pride.

Males will do
What they must do
For little blue eggs
Little children
Not ready
To empty the nest.

He has done
What he must do.

He will sing of this
When his beak is not full
But for now
He knows

He is the hunter
The provider

The little renegade
With the big heart

And he will stand
And pose
So we all know
What he is

In the anarchy
Of suburbia.

Book II: Swan

Sweep the harbour.
Sweep it clean.

Swan dive.
Come up huge.

Too good to set foot
on the concrete byways.
Belong in the water.

The water belongs.

The ducks are no nuisance.
Serenity rides on the back.

Couples stay afloat.
Couples stick together.
Couples look good.

Couples know it.

Swan dive.
No one will get in the way

of the supreme majesties
of the waterfront.

Book I: Pigeon

Sit and wait.
Stalk and strut.
Near and nibble.

Take up what's left.
Swallow what's right.

Swallow whatever.
Swallow all.

Let the others chirp and sing.
Let them quake the feeder.

Let them clear the way
for the law of the sidewalk.
Let them escape with their beaks
while they still can.

Chow down.

Nosh on the excess.
That's the realm
of the real ruler
of the rich resort
roadside.

Bluegrass and boulevards
are the prerogatives
of the well-fed defender.

Take sight
and fire away

bombardier
in the combat zones
of the concrete jungle.