Watching Wild Birds
Plump pillows behind my back,
a cozy comforter, a hot coffee
warming one hand, I quietly peer
through my window this morning
seeing Spring gently kiss the land.
On the other side of the grey gravel
recycled black pails hold treasures-
Spring bulbs about to flower
amidst fresh blue-green leaves
long and slender, sturdy and stout.
They sit at the base of a rock face-
beige and grey, rust and brown,
cracked and creased and carved,
weathered and mossed in veins,
part of a hill taken away.
Atop the incline by the flowers
of this potted garden of my new home,
I’ve thrown seed offerings to birds
amidst moss and grass and weed
just below the rusty roll of wire-
once a fence, now a perch for birds
watching the farm cats come and go.
In changing seasons and weather,
wild birds flock to my feed.
They’re not even birds of a feather,
this flock of visitors I now see
once more as often before,
males and females, young and old,
all together- sparrow, junco, towhee.
They all travel in flight together,
not minding different colour or size,
finding some reason to be together.
What that may be, I don’t know
but I delight when they’re in sight,
watching them close to the window
as I sit in my cozy nest bed
making sure they’re all well fed.
Watching them chat and dine,
I must say ‘The pleasure is mine’.
My reward is simply that pleasure-
birds and flowers, a visual treasure.
Coffee gone, it’s time to get up now,
change and move on with my day…
March 23, 2023
Shelley Audrey Wilson
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