It’s still early here as eastern sky
forgets its sparkling starlit darkness.
I hear the talk of crows in distant trees
whose leafless branches silhouette
against the coming dawn. No clouds climb
the apple green horizon. A chill has left
its frosted touch on rooftops; my breath
becomes white clouds about my face.
A dove and sparrow watch me fill their box.
I leave their favorite seeds so finch and
songbirds feed while keeping watchful eyes
for sneaky neighbor cat, fat on mice and rat
that nighttime eat beneath the birdie’s box.
The tapping of tiny beaks in box stops …
a barn owl glides so silently by, that had I not
looked up, I would have missed its passing.
This happens every day, and it’s not for me
to say how many more I get to see.