It holds an oak , maybe 75 years old , perfectly formed staid and uncensored
A brown field that holds court to white tailed deer and Sand hill cranes
But what brings life are the songbirds,
I laugh at the bluejays , if I lay out raw peanuts , they are there in seconds –
Feeding like madmen 10 birds at a time,
The raucous titmice (blame the ornithologist for that name)
They are birds like cardinals, raucous and funny-
Life of this party,
And yes, the butlers come in
Efficient and dapper-
Chickadees so smart
Cleaning up after the mess.
Many have migrated to their summer home
Like the hummingbirds those Costa Rican renegades & their
Flashing like a small microcosm
of tropical beauty-
Only for a short time .
Like the mourning doves that used to roost on top of the seed pile
Seemingly jousting for top dawg,
where I wanted to say: THERE IS ENOUGH FOR ALL.
But summer birds are different than the winter birds or even spring
The juncos seem to easily be of ‘one mind’
Happily feeding even in the icy rain .
I love these changes
easy subject of any poem,
Because even I find myself in a new season of life
Tumultous , dark and churning
But I know finally
I am going home.
As sure as the hummingbirds that 500 mile trip every year,
And those fragile souls of the ‘Great Monarch Migration’
2000 miles every year
Floating , flying in gentle waves
To the marigolds of Peru.