The cockatoos have been pruning the liquidambar
Again in their quest for seed pods
Shearing off the softer tips of branches
Dropping them down on deck,
Garden, and path, sprays of green
On the piles of last year’s discarded leaves

Seed pods rain down too
Some in fragments ripped apart
By hungry beaks, some whole and green
Or dried brown and spiky
Nature’s caltrops strewn at the front door
A menace to unwary bare feet

The birds have been improving their aim over the years
How else explain the pods that hit the windows
Or land in tea mugs
Or bounce off the heads of anyone daring
To sit in the dappled shade and sun
Of a glorious early autumn day

I’m going inside.