Their heads on long necks are thrown back while they bicker
Not like geese, but like a couple too angry to listen:
Out-honking their hearts in a furor
likely about nothing much, just
how far to stroll from the cresting creek.
But the argument doesn’t last long before the chums concur:
They will waddle no further west than the creek’s eponymous st.
A street whereon cars and eighteen-wheelers whiz threateningly.
So decided, heads face ground and the peckers attack Spring’s issue
Side by side, in newfound calm, white chinstraps in profile, bums a-swing
and black bills bobbing like a sewing machine needle that pierces cloth.
Unknown to them, that white chinstrap saves them being shot
Here, on land granted them and theirs but now deeded
– Hiss! – to some heartless, hungering body.
If they knew, might there be a lot less bickering?