spring is coming/august is
just around the corner, you
can count on it, except when
you can’t. the feathers fly in
tasty quarrels over who gets
the banquets of seeds and
early bugs; everything prowls
in designer plumage, even
the new batch of tourists
squawking about the view
and sunshine - or lack thereof.
love of winter, bits of suet
help pass the time til they don't.
