Thursday, February 25, 2010

Late February

Late February

We want it to be spring
Right now
The backyard birds and I.
Birds gathered in this cold
At suet blocks
Flocking on feeders
Feathered knots of hunger,
Desperation, greed.
          At the kitchen window
          Though warmed by coffee,
          Wool socks, silk underwear,
          I too am desperate,
          Empty, hungry, cold.
          Waiting for something I cannot find
          In a bag of black oil seed.