I have a bird feeder to feed the passing flocks.
Each morning I sit and watch the clock
and every day at twelve pm on the dot
a bird will come and set up shop.

With feathers of pure red,
and with a shocking appeal,
a cardinal lands and begins its meal.
It is old and wise, ready to face it's demise
yet, in the blink of an eye,
It's ready to fly, and goes to rejoin its flock.

This time I see a bright blue.
A blue jay lands quickly
stumbling all so hesitantly.
It watches me at it eats,
believing it cannot be beat.
it adds an arrogant chirp
taking flight, and joins its friends in the sky.

A loud white slams into the feeder.
You can tell it has a troublesome demeanor.
A dove has come to feed in the day,
a young one who has not yet felt like pray.
It chirps and chirps not a care in the world,
and leaves just as chaotically
to find itself more worthwhile quarrels.

Today however, there were no birds.
No chirps, no songs,
the food was left out far too long.
With the wind getting colder in the night sky
and no flocks hovering above or saying goodbye
I was only able to wonder why.

Today was the last day I ever saw a bird.
A crow coated in black
faced me with its back.
When it felt my gaze it was sent into a craze
and it flew into the dusk of night,
dropping whatever it had in its grasp.
Three feathers, old feathers
one red, one blue, one white.

© Robert Taylor