A Birdhouse
A birdhouse hanging from a tree
Has snow piled on its roof.
If there are doubts about the storm,
Well, there’s the real-life proof.
Designed with details to appear
So cottage-like and charming,
Its Wedgewood-colored siding
Both familiar and disarming,
This mini-homestead’s cuteness is
An unexpected treat.
You wouldn’t look for such a thing
On a Manhattan street.
Yet there it is, with bright white door
And next to it, a broom,
Just waiting for a sparrow
To stop by and take up room.
Surrounding it, apartments loom;
Pedestrians make haste.
Still, somehow in this neighborhood,
This dwelling’s been embraced.
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