Notes About The Poem
Housefinch pair.
Eerie Morn Out on the Playporch
There's an eerie feel to the air
A sign of impending storm
All is quieter, still,
Until the birds' row begin to form
The bird's row on the garden fence
Wanting their turn to feed
Of those seeds, which magically appear.
The poet's bi-weekly good deed
Species of all types come by
Some fight to get a share
Brown-headed cowbird, doves
Cardinals, house finches eat the fare.
One Dove dives behind the fence post
Hidden away from his mate.
She chases him out into view
Seems little food his fate.
Then all is still again out there.
As I look through a dirty pane,
I wonder how I'll survive
When life is so uncertain again.
Then a brown thrasher flies in
He is eating from my seed.
I think how lovely he is
I'm thankful I can give him feed
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