The Blackbird

Little blackbird.

It is winter.

You know where to find the tasty morsels.

You toss the wet leaves on the grass.

The little creatures scurry.

Too late.

Your bright yellow beak picks them up.

You have been busy from early morning;

Scratching in the soil

Along the raised beds

Looking for snails.

There is abundance of provision for you.

You know where to find it.

When I open the door

You rise and dart over the fence.

You will come back to forage later

Among the plant pots.

Thank you for your company.

One thought on “The Blackbird

  1. I love this, Angela. Our lawn is covered in fallen leaves just now and the birds are busy foraging. It’s exactly how you describe in your poem.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.