Sunday, February 16, 2014

Two Feet from a Flicker

New poem this morning; well, a first draft... 

(picture by Edward Peterson)

Two Feet from a Flicker

Two feet from my seat at my desk
To the windowsill where
On the other side of the glass
A flicker is feasting on the seed and nut bar
I have provided for my entertainment
And his nourishment.
If he sees me, he doesn’t care.
I try not to move too much.
I can see his ears
A slight bulge under his feathers
I can see the sun shining off his black eyes that are all pupil
His left hand clutches the seed bar
His long beak, longer than a red belly’s
Pokes into the block of seed and nuts and raisins
His tongue fine as a hairpin
Touches it.
He wears a cherry red cap on the nape of his neck,
black raindrop shapes on his cheeks,
And a black necklace on his throat and  gold ermine on his chest
And as he fends off  an approaching Bluejay,
His gold shafts flare out on the inside of his wings.
Oh, fifteen whole minutes I’ve had with you,
My beautiful customer!

(photo by Seabrooke Leckie)

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