The morning chorus chirped with tension
little friends foraging for worms
ground too tough, like an iron girder
they look folorn and weary
they look me in the eye as if to say; feed me
I open a packet of seed and scatter it lovingly
they scurry like rats to feed their bellies
I see the truth – innocent feathered dots of joy
the painted shed is black and covered in moss
shades of brown, green and yellow are forcing me to stare
daffodil shoots just beginning to peep through the icy earth
the owlets are starving too – I wonder if the sparrows will share the content of
their coffers
the sun is shining with half a smile
the heron sits on top of the Sycamore tree
he’s still and poised, waiting to pounce…


2 comments on “THE MORNING CHORUS

  1. John Stevens says:

    I think you are right: they do seem to look us in the eye and say “feed me!”

  2. caroray78 says:

    Even if we are not lovers of them, we are compelled to feed them…

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