Jul 2
His look a lite a-side, in swich manere,
Ascaunces, `What! May I not stonden here?’
I eat every day,
you know that, right?
Just like you
and all your big-finger buddies inside.
Such delectable fare it is
despite the troubling presentation,
cutsey little houses, really?
my apologies for robbing Geoffrey Chaucer
The snow raises the stakes, if you’re a bird.
Most of what you’d eat is fourteen inches under a blanket
of the soft fluffy white stuff.
Birds of the north side.
Southsiders.
Southwest.
Northwest.
Eastward mobile.
From a little distance the feeders look like aircraft carrier in battle.
At any approach near enough to shoot a picture
the birds scatter, nine out of ten,
leaving just the bravest, or the hungriest,
of the finches, nuthatches, mourning doves, siskins,
juncos, blue jays, cardinals, sparrows, robins and the rest.