Tuesday, September 18, 2007

ornithology

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.

9 comments:

Tee said...

I REALLY like this one, Milton. It's beautiful and seasonal and has a clear meaning, and yet deeper one. Perfect.

This Girl Remembers said...

Oh wow - this is a gorgeous poem! Thank you so much for sharing it with us over at Writers Island. :)

tumblewords said...

I've often wondered about that - you said it well! Enjoyed!

keith hillman said...

Lovely poem! A great contribution to our island!

Jessica said...

Great poem -- beautiful in its simplicity. I especially loved the phrase "wait like worshippers". Very evocative.

wendy said...

really great poem.

nice to meet you.

gautami tripathy said...

I have a few crows "waiting like a worshipper" each morning.

I enjoyed this..:D

Lea said...

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.

Thomas, as told to Sarah said...

Oh, I do like this one.