We have talked about putting a bird feeder in the back yard. Maybe we will this winter. For now the linden seems feeder enough. With the windows open I wish I spoke bird. I could sit in the kitchen with my coffee and catch up on the neighborhood news. I used to be really good at eavesdropping... I could hear things clear across a crowded room. Not so much anymore. Now I am content to host the neighborhood coffee klatch.
The mountain ash is in full orange fruit
Berries hang in bunches.
Every bird from blocks around
The robins
The grackles
The cardinals,
Every bird makes a visit
For their breakfast fruit.
They sit and wait their turn
On the edge of the gutter,
Swoop in and out.
Last spring the tree hosted
A migration of waxwings.
This morning it*s the regulars
From down the block,
Waiting for a branch to be free,
Grab a quick cuppa
From the neighborhood tree,
Energy perhaps for what promises to be
A cooler day.
I slide the kitchen door open
So I can overhear
The conversations.
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