DM Babbit Poet Rhyme

Thrush

I wonder why of late
 only certain birds come to the feeding plate.
In spring a blend of every species
 appears fluid as hungry and needy.
Winter though, 
 perhaps because of cold and snow
that attendance is reduced,
 to lovers of the oak and mighty spruce;
hovering tween bush and brush
 comes the striped brown colored thrush;
windswept by fine flakes of snow
 they are cautious where they go.
Seeking shelter beneath the flower pots,
 each stakes out a private lot,
where protected and safe
 the winter cold they escape.

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