Kindness

I filled my untidy garden with birds.
It was simple. Let me instruct. You buy
A red plastic cylinder crammed with seeds
(Tawny, black, striped), then precariously
Loop it round twigs. Then birds drop from the sky.
Bluetits quarrel, ferociously.

They bring long-tailed tits with their piping cries,
Sparrows who squabble and scrabble the fence,
Then the robin, wild with anger. He flies
At red like an enemy, Where the seeds
Fall deep, a pale carpet, without defence
Shy chaffinches, loud blackbirds feed.

But the youngest cat lies under a bush.
Her almond-shaped eyes squint patient as day.
I can see, already, her silent rush.
Should I scoop up the seeds? Break tangled strings?
How can I send so many birds away?
How can I live without wings?

-- Alison Brackenbury