Birds Of America - Poem by Sonny Rainshine
So much has been said
about the lark, about the thrilling
trilling of the nightingale,
But I wouldn’t know one
if I saw one. Every day
little brown and gray birds
hold congress in my backyard,
then scatter like October leaves
with no warning, all in perfect unison,
like precision dancers.
Someday, I say to myself,
(careful that no-one else hears)
I’ll buy an Audubon Birds of America
or a National Geographic Guide
to Northamerican Birds.
Yet, something tells me
I may never.
Still, I know
that those plumed creatures
foraging through last summer’s
don’t know my name either,
and will never buy
Audubon’s Guide to Humans
but they’ll nod to me
when I leave them
a scoop of sunflower seeds
mixed with a handful of good intentions
to get us all through the winter.
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