BIRDS

The birdfeeder is full.
It calls out with its seed,
standing tall on the deck,
like a flag for the flocks in the canyon.
But where are the birds?
I look out from the kitchen
for those darting small things,
those bright blue wings,
those occasional streaks of
cardinal red.
This is Austin winter.
Not a hint of avian activity.
I miss the delight of each flitting arrival.
I have heard of migration.
I never anticipated
my personal sense of
loss.


© Ellen Azorin