Thursday, December 1, 2011


Early Bird Special

We used to joke about the
Early Bird Special
but here we are alight on
the perch of a cheap
meal, wing to wing and beak to
beak with migrants and
those less imprinted, year round
chirpers of trash talk.
Fat Mourning Doves plop near the
buffet, seconds, thirds
and forths, taking their good sweet
time while Blue Jays preach
sermons on rough and
tumble and order drinks all
around, sticking the
Wren with the tab. “King of All
Birds, my ass” they squawk.
The joint goes quiet as a
church on Friday night
as Tufted Titmouse times two
exchange words then a
twenty with the maitre' d
who can't seem to find
their silly name on his list.
What's that she's eating?
It looks so good”. Finch cuisine,
I remind you, keeps
you up at night. In the end
we share a suet,
fly home to an early bed.

November 23, 2011

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