What do you think of my poem?

Attempt at personification and to explore the relationship between predator and prey.

It's for a poetry competition tonight, so any speedy advice would be welcome!

Does the ending work? Is the characeterisation believable? What about the shift from first person to third person and back again?

Any other suggestions?

Thanks

Common Ground

I calculate the angle of attack,

Alter my approach. Ailerons

Raised; I come into land.

I can spot the tiniest movement

From eighty feet -

Swoop, catch, consume.

It’s all in the preparation,

A pilot’s checklist.

I wear the colour of black,

Creep under their radar.

Addressing worms below

With a mighty V sign.

And you call me bird-brained!

This particular stealth bomber

Sits proudly in the apple tree,

Head tilted, eye fixed

On a single blade of grass.

Assesses the moment to pounce,

The time to stoop.

Readies himself.

Branch resonates.

Sprung into the void,

To devour and feast

On the succulent, fat worm below.

“Don’t eat me!”

Lingua franca

Bridges the elements.

Spans the gulf

Between the foes.

Stunned, the bird

Stalls, falls

A whirl of confusion,

A mass of ruffled feathers.

Just in time, he pulls up,

Regains his composure.

“What?”

“Don’t eat me”.

“For I am a digger, a nourisher,

A toiler and tiller,

A compost-heap of delight.

Without me, you would never

Taste berries, so red and ripe

Or perch on your tree

So lofty and high.

We are legion.

On the work of billions

Your life depends”.

Blackbird eyes his adversary

In a new light.

Pearlescent, deep-jet stare.

“Fat, juicy worm,

My children are hungry.

They cry for food.

Kill or be killed.”

“The same winds which drove you here

Powered your flight,

The same jetstream, the same clouds

The same rain, the same instinct

Causes me to surface for air

When pitter-patter drums the ground.

The same urge to procreate,

To fend for our brothers and sisters

Beats in my heart as it does yours.

We stand on common ground.”

“I am a maker, a delver and digger

Gardener of tender shoots, green leaves.”

Blackbird bends ever closer,

To hear this strange speech.

“To eat me would . . .”

Beak stabs, snaps.

Worm falls silent.