wrought iron
ancient tower
in look
sold and bought
at a garden center
in years I might have forgot
some winters to fill you up
going bare barren
for an entire season
no good reason, just the passing
forgetting to refill the silo
forgetting t’was even there, at times
the nature of gravity and consumption
in the wind, swaying

a common winter night
not an occasion to stop-
so filled to the top
and spilt over
not a delicate affair
no, certainly not
like an old man in the park
shucking for the coo
more organized perhaps
but much the same rouse

and I can not control those who come
who find this rest stop
and sometimes a flurry
a gang, a jail break frenzy romp
rather than the gentle sweep and peck
the subtle moves of anxiety
the back and forth with caution
of those who might be prey
or at least garnish so

sometimes I wish
to script upon the seed
with the breed
I wish to attract
oh, silly me
haven’t we all done
this very same act?