Birds Still Diving

I wrote this verse four years ago and present it again here, for though the avian personnel may be of a new generation, the game is still the same.
 

Desiccated and sere a blob of bird poop right here

in the center of the windshield.

 

The bucket, rag and soap; now it’s clean, for good we hope.

Wring the rag, swirl the pail, toss the water in the grass.

 

Awk! What iridescent flash o’er my head did I see pass?

Grackle Bomber in a dive on the scene does now arrive.

 

*           *             *

**

*SPLAT*

**

*

*

 

Dead-center hit.

The windshield again besmeared with it.

 

The End