Chirping in a whirring
Circle in the branches
Above the table where
I sit and watch, it looks like
My friends are thinking
Twice about attacking
The crumbs
I’ve most kindly left
On the slab of wood hanging
Like a swing from the leafless
Judas tree.
.
As long as I’m here, I know
They’ll keep their distance,
Springing on my offering only
After I leave them alone.
Such ungrateful wretches.
Don’t these birds understand?
They should be eating out of my hand.
