Recycle your waste, we are told. Save the planet, keep it green, but these guys are doing their best to keep it white and grey and kind of “ungreen”.
They’re here, the winged invaders,
The flying rats, the seashore waders,
The opportunist waste invaders.
*
The sky is full of flapping wings
Bright red mouths squawk obscene things
As litter floats off in the air
And bird poop scatters everywhere.
*
The raid is on, there’s no respite
Until the dirty deed is done,
They’ve had their picnic and their fun
They’re needed elsewhere in a rush,
And leave the sweeper up to brush
The remnants of their feast away
Until the next recycled day.
*
And up they fly, their sunlit wings
Hint not of the vandal’s things
They have displayed down here today
Before, in beauty soared away,
Denying havoc that they wreak
Paddled feet and piercing beak
Plotting what to target where
Recycled food drops from the air.
I blame it on Sir Isaac Newton. If he had just been quiet we wouldn’t even know where it comes from 
Perhaps it wasn’t an apple that fell on his head after all, was it?
Haha, plotting what to target where … sounds like a variant on Hitchcock. I love this look at the other side of nature. 
Nicely done!
Thanks for this opportunity Louie. Its not very often one gets the chance to review a good piece of work and can use excellent and sh*t at the same time.
Welcome to Authspot, the spot for creative writing.
Read some stories and poems, and be sure to subscribe to our feed!
