The Regent Honeyeater

His wings beat softly in the vibrant sun,

As he chirps excitedly that spring has come. 

He smells the sticky bottlebrush, 

His friends hear the call as it turns into a frenzied rush. 

Birds from all around come to eat, 

As if supper has been called in a heartbeat. 

Magpies, parakeets, king parrots and so many other birds, 

They have come to join the party for the 1st of spring as they soar in a herd, 

It’s like Christmas presents galore. 

But instead it’s the sweet bottlebrush that’s scored, 

The regent honeyeater needs some help to still be able to sing. 

As I wish for this not to be their last spring,

As their population starts to decline, 

Because of the box iron forests that resign. 

As we nasty humans watch them fall, 

The bird's numbers will withdraw,

The war has started, 

And we want it to finish on a high heart. 

As that means these beautiful yellow birds will draw their last breath,

As the last thing they look at will be our flesh.