Watching the birds at the nearby lake is something I enjoy every day.
At the lake
Coarse discords like shouts of anger or agony
rip across the calm blue sky.
White shapes of jagged feathered lightning
zig-zag from tree to tree.
The cockatoos are flocking, playing, yelling,
big birds that know no rival, that own the space
around the lake, secure among the noisy crowd.
Sometimes one turns his aggression
against the placid ducks, a strafing fighter
without a gun, sulphur-crested larrikin
having his fun. The ducks don’t care,
since if they want to, they can dive.
© Malcolm Miller 11.2.2014
Malcolm Miller's Poems 
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Thanks for reading. With a poem, one hopes to achieve some kind of resonance in the mind of the reader which will help them enjoy or appreciate it…