‘the birdfeeder‘

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
shuffling hands in a paper bag, for company
more organized perhaps
but much the same rouse
much the same draw

and I can not control those who come
who find this rest stop
and sometimes a flurry
a gang of rooks, 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
little ones bounce from limb to perch
or a big blue jay swoops in
also on the lurch

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?
(in our own reality)

based on the real, just my bird feeder swinging on the tree outside my bedroom window and the implications there… life is a strange and wonderful thing. so…. what do you think ?

and for any noobs: (I promise to be gentle) I write in flash form, maybe my work is not perfect but it is a flash photo of what comes out of my mind and pen (ok, keyboard mostly)… so, just so you know how it works around here, this is all just me throwing my breath out there, so if you read all this, or any of this, thanks for your cherished time, I appreciate it.