Poetic Material du Jour

To the Sparrow Nesting in my Back Porch Eaves

Two panes of frost to look through this morning.
A view of white winter light and last weeks snow,
And one warm brown spot,
Huddling in a nest of human trash.

You're sitting right in the spot where I meant to hang a suet block.

Maybe I'll build a sparrow trap instead.
Then I'll cut a circle from the river,
An icy final nest for you and
Your ugly family.
Or else I may warm my hands around your neck.

I want my suet to feed the song of the wren or the thrush,
Or the red head of the woodpecker or barn swallow.
You were never invited!
Where are your cousins with the white throats and gold crowns?

We hold each other's gaze through the frost.
Is your tail long enough to be a mourning dove?
Is your breast the grey buff of a Brewer's sparrow?
Are you the right one to eliminate or not?

I will wait till spring to remove your eggs from my porch.
Then I'll have better birds, or no birds at all.

Stop staring at me!
Do you blame me for missing
feeee odi odi zeeee zaaaa zooo and
Old Sam Peabody Peabody Peabody?