Love Birds Poem by Ima Ryma

It is a wintry, stormy night.
Across the road, I watch the field
With birds above in frantic flight,
Looking for food, but no more yield.
Only a leftover scarecrow
That has nobody left to scare.
Just a once was covered in snow,
No good or bad for birds to share.
I bundle up with bag in hand,
And out into that field go I.
Instinctively I understand,
My love of birds the only why.

Me and the scarecrow, yes indeed,
Hold out our hands with bird seed.