After a long winter I fill
the sweet wooden birdhouse
and wait for the oriole to return.
I shoo away the squirrel that climbs
upon the rusty metal stand. Keep to
your acorns, I say. There are plenty.
Squawking lapis jay comes next
drops bits of seed to the ground
where grass sprouts underneath.
A wild turkey nibbles the fallen fodder.
I hope his whole family comes again
like every afternoon last spring?
Previously published in The Avocet, a nature journal, Spring 2016