Lord of All

He is the lord of all he surveys, even
though it is not that much, less than an acre
of lawn and a handful of trees. Still,

he likes to keep his beady eye on things,
his feathery finger on the pulse. Even if just
a single sparrow stirs, he likes to know

about it. You can tell how much he hates
the magpies and the squirrels; their obvious lack
of responsibility. The foxes, he can relate

to; always on the look-out for something
to scavenge, some leftovers to take back home
to the den. The gulls, on the other hand,

confuse him. He cannot imagine what
they are doing in the middle of a city. They, who
if they had stayed put, could have had

the whole of the coastline to call their own.