Groucho mag-spies

the magpies
are wearing moustaches

I think
they may be in disguise

though I haven’t seen any
wearing dark glasses

it isn’t Spring yet
but
change must be in the air

the maggies are unceasing
in their hunt for nest materials

a length of stringy-bark
fallen from a piece
of firewood
is trodden on
to hold it down
while simultaneously worked over
with a beak

in another place
dried off grass
is ripped
and torn
with the same result

I expect there must be
a secret password

a special segment
of song caroling
that means

pass
friend

or

who are you

I have never seen
your moustache
before

they make a comical
spy outfit

Groucho
would be pleased


© Frank Prem, 2017

August 2017 Poem #04: axe time

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