The thing with feathers

Blackbirds & cowbirds,
the grackles & jays spend the snowy
morning at the feeders bullying finches
& sparrows. Cardinals aflame around
the fire bush weigh opportunity.
The sweet titmouse couple
only want sunflower
seeds since the peanuts ran out.

They dive into the bare forsythia
as a clutter of starlings
crash land. So loud; so round
with gold leaf & ebony feathers.
Brassy & bossy, their yellow beaks
as sharp as their chatter. They’ve driven
off the wren & no chickadee has been
seen since before the snow.

These birds gather as though I owe
them something & perhaps I do.
I must owe something to the world.
Maybe it is just this: sustenance
in the cold.

Though I doubt it.
 

 

T