ornithology

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    In our first summer
    I started feeding birds –
    you’ll have to feed
    all year round,
    our neighbor said,
    or they’ll die in winter

    I thought
    I was doing them
    a favor.

    Now they congregate
    in the crisp autumn air
    and wait like worshippers
    for me to fill the feeder
    while the wild geese
    fly overhead

    I wonder
    if both instincts
    are true.

    Peace,
    Milton

    P. S. — You can check out other poems at Writer’s Island.

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    9 COMMENTS

    1. wonderful writing… moving me to many levels… my bird feeder is empty… and the leaves have begun to fall… your words will peer over my shoulder… thank you.

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