Suspended by rope from the eaves the feeder
hangs between me and the morning sun.
Shadows dance across my newspaper
as three chickadees, dart between a hemlock
and the waiting bounty of sunflower seeds.
How different from the junco which
will hunker down in the seeds and fly
at others with beak open and wings aflutter.
The chickadees are different. One flies in, selects
a seed and takes it away to crack or cache.
As the first leaves the second flutters in
while the third perches and waits its turn.
If only the politicians I am reading about
could show such interest in the common good.
— Richard Stokes
The Capital City Weekly accepts submissions of poetry, fiction and nonfiction for Writers’ Weir. To submit a piece for consideration, email us at firstname.lastname@example.org.