Little Mr. Intention
How could the little titmouse know,
holding seeds between his toes,
that further out along the limb,
he makes the leaves twitch on their stems?
His tufted head pounds up and down;
the careful listener hears the sound,
of sunflower
seed yielding up its heart
to a pecking, determined dart.
The poplar leaves, out at the tip,
tremble gold beneath each dip
of beady eyes and feathered crest,
before they drift to autumn's rest.
Catherine Wilson
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12 comments:
What a lovely image - and perhaps a metaphor?
Here's hoping I have actually figured out how to post a comment.....
Hey Jonna! So nice to see you here :)
Thanks. That was a lucky shot - I admit.
Wonderful! Total package! Thanks
Wood Duck . . .
Thank you so very much . .
Bu . .bu . . . but whoooo arrrrre you, my friend ? :)
I wonder if they do know? Those little bugeyes seem full of mischief.I think the titmouse deserves a poem.Nice little poem-thanks Catherine.
Oh Larry. You dear. After all this time and my neglect of my old blogging friends you take the time to drop by - to leave flowers :)
Thank you. Truly.
Just a kindred spirit, on the edge of the world
happy trails and puppy dog tails
Dear Wood Duck,
May your perch be sunny when you wish it . .
Peaceful when required . .
And when the wind blows . .
May you always find a kindred spirit perched alongside you.
So perfect. My feeders are full of titmice and chickadees and the tap tap tap as they split the sunflower seeds against the porch rail is constant.
Proud Hillbilly! Thank you so much for stopping by and your kind words. It is a wonderful 'birdy' time of year :)
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