Bird Concern

The robins are waiting, roosting high,
pointing beaks in windward rows.
“Bleak! Bleak! Bleak!” I hear
the cough of the raggedy crows.

The loon on the river drifts
into madness, or so it seems.
Her red eye disordered, gleams,
reflecting the broken ice floes.

A woodpecker hammers on and on
and on…intent on dismantling
the frost-white pillars of our porch,
to bring winter down, crashing.

Sparrows, frantic for crumbs,
huddle, withhold their small songs,
while eagles circle the ice-blue sky.
Robins are waiting for snow-melt.

So am I. So am I. So am I.

Leslie Schultz

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