Working Birds Poem by David Taylor

They are causing some excitement.
At the end of my garden, the birds
most energetically alight on slender branches
with beaks pecking, necks arching
feet gripping as they balance, perching
in an acrobatic dance.
To reach the desired place and stance
and bite the reddening delights
that have ripened in the warm sunlight.
Cherries are now on the menu
but my wife is not convinced
of these birds and their providence.
She thinks those cherries better suit
pies or jams or, just for fruit.
She’s not impressed by the birds'
mastications as they peck and dart about
warbled warnings they do shout.
Watch out for the cat and that woman
with the ladder and white hat
intent on taking all the ripened fruit
that this tree has long been making
for us birds and our rightful delectation.