The Poetry of Mary K. O'Melveny

WILD THINGS II

 




 

They quite surprised me this morning

as I walked to the porch window

to check the bird feeders. No warning

given that birds had become giants.

It was a chorus lineup, slow,

purposeful and self-reliant,

necks bobbing up, back and out,

colorful feathers brightening

the early dawning chill.  They flout

the skeptics who focus on charm

or flyers aiming at whitening

skies.  They care little for such form.

They are quite content wandering

slowly in the grassy meadow,

now and then hopskipping about. 

Their hunger is evident now,

acorns and birdseed downed without

second thoughts.  Soon, the flock shows

quicker tempos, spurred on, food-warmed,

out to the wooded portico.

 

 

                                                               01-09-16

 

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