Plump plum dangling on withered stalk
The object of the parakeet’s study
Swift wings beating, avian squawk,
The bird’s incursion piercing and bloody
Orchardist comes speaking apophasis
Bitter enemy of parakeet’s kin
Wishing only to change the stasis
Grimly driven by desperate whim
Six of one, or half dozen
Either one is plump plum’s foe
Leaving no room for discussion
By cutting off its vital flow
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