Feeding Time Poem by Kim Davies

Our meal had just arrived
and so had the gaggle of slappers
who were shown to the next table.

Foul language stabbed at the music,
howls and guffaws swamped our food.
Words disappeared on our lips, floundering
against the deafening rabble.
Party animals.

Peals of shrill laughter rasped
at my nerves. Grating
the peace into shreds.
In full swing, the shrieking Macaw
screamed and squealed her amusement.
A sudden screech pierced
the gabble, like a knife.
I dropped my fork.

Without a word or backward glance
he approached their table, and
for one blissful moment
Silence.
He walked away
leaving them to heave their ample jaws
off their table.

Then...
Uproar. Like starving gulls squabbling and squawking
over one thrown chip.
Vultures.
Attacking.
I helped him to fend them off,
then the welcome retreat of the cool night air.

Son, you can't teach old dogs new tricks,
or table manners to hungry hyenas.
But trying to tame a pack of wolves
straight from a watering hole...
Well, that's like walking into
a lions' Den!