[Written on the morning of the first snow fall of 2017]
Dead long since summer turned to autumn,
Standing taller than the average human,
Droop with the weight of freshly fallen snow
In the frigid air of early November.
Their arching tops,
With hanging clusters of dried seeds
dangling in temptation,
Encourage the robins, thrushes and towhees,
Who cannot alight upon them,
To mimic the in-flight dining rituals of hummingbirds.
Some seeds fall; fodder for a later time.
Further attempts to fill their beaks
From the ever-dancing perches
Ultimately prove fruitful;
And the birds fly off to a nesting cove
Of quieter warmth
Beneath the snow-laden fir trees
To digest their bounty.
©2017 Michael Armenia