It’s Not A Test

Each evening when 

almost all the seed is gone

and only a kernel or two remain,

the same plump bird comes

and finishes what is left.

Can birds be obsessive-compulsive too?

Or maybe I’m wrong and it’s not

the same bird, but right or wrong

that bird brings me pleasure,

and on that note I’ll rest.

JDG

This entry was posted in poetry.

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