Sunday, April 16, 2017

Poem for Easter


They don’t sing for us
   they sing to mark their territory
   and attract a mate
   the nestlings screech
    I’m hungry! I’m hungry!

Out on a branch
   warbling full-throated
   in his ancestral key
   he could care less that
   we’re listening

But allow me to say thank you
   anyway
   tiny virtuoso
   beyond price the ticket
   to such a glorious concert

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