At the Feeder, January 18th
At The Feeder, January 18th
The fresh dusting of snow this morning
is now a lacy network of sparrow tracks
overwritten by the single trail
of the marauding squirrel.
The feeder has been frozen
for two days,
and the only way to feed the birds
is to scatter seed on the snow.
The black squirrel,
shoulders hunched,
slowly moves across the snowy plain,
vacuuming up seed
as he goes.
His exhaled breath puffs the snow
as he creeps forward exposing more food.
The mourning doves sit watchfully
at a distance,
almost hypnotized by the action below,
timid, even amongst the sparrows.
The sparrows flit about
looking for an opportunity to land.
When one brave soul gets his feet on the ground,
he is joined by the rest of the flock
and the squirrel moves on
with a look that says,
“I was finished anyway.”
Copyright © Susan Linn | Year Posted 2019
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