We sing our bird songs of joy and thanksgiving.
For that lady on Euclid Avenue, has filled our dinner table.
Nothing too fussy or picky.
She throws out day-old bread.
A dinner treat against the cold north wind.
When winter’s grip breaks, she fills our suet cages.
Along with special blends, the best favored seeds for our large bin.
Imagine, just for us.
We do make quite a sight.
Flying sideways and crossways to get our favorite spot.
While the squirrels get their fill eating upside down.
In gratitude we leave feathered gifts on her porch.
The lady on Euclid enjoys our singing.
Especially when morning breaks.
Being her musical choir, the maestros of her quiet contemplation.
© Mary Anne Abdo