Intrusion Most Fowl

Such peril I had not foreseen

Betwixt these rugged peaks

A hermitage, disarming

With furnishings so charming

And all bedrooms en-suite

Behold, unrivalled valley views

Unspoilt by frosted panes

To enhance one’s dawn ablutions

Or gastric distributions

Nepenthe from the strains

The scarred and scattered fence posts

Formed not a palisade

For bracken-smothered grass

Rose up beyond the glass

And a viewing platform made

‘Twas on that first morn I locked eyes

With those of my vexation

A feathered fiend

Who watched and preened

Throughout my defecation

Pray, avert thy hawkish gaze!

I desperately beseeched

The unexpected visitor,

A purposeful inquisitor

Perched just beyond my reach

Away! Adieu! I bellowed, cried

My words were sharp and shrill

But threats and jeers

Instilled no fears

In he upon my sill

Dear Sir, in drastic change of tact

I queried through the casement

Why not reflect

To good effect

And cease this cruel debasement

Perhaps he did not understand

Perchance he thought it fitting

To ignore my pleas

Mock my unease

A torment unremitting

For every day thenceforth was he

Outside the window waiting

And I could not sit alone

Upon that porcelain throne

Without that cock spectating

The deepest depths of my despair

He plumbed, without cessation

My movements - spoiled

Intestines - coiled

Amidst such violation

My misery came home to roost

With a final desperate plan

I lay in wait

He took the bait

And became un Coq au Vin

As Damocles, each morn I sit

There pondering my fate

For the voyeur slain

Had begun to train

A Peeping Tom coop-mate

 David’s storytelling was forged in the fires of Grandad’s living room, and he now dabbles in short stories, poetry and children’s fiction. His short stories have been featured in Andromeda, Flash Fiction North and Luxury Lit, and his poetry has been published by Northern Life. He is more likely to be caught reading Donaldson than Keats, but classics are classics, right?