The cowbird alights on the untended box
and the wrens squawk,
flying in from an undisclosed location
so where will she place this egg
she’s so anxious to lay?
I’ve been in a dark cupboard,
the doors closed until a hand
reaches in for a pinch.
Like baking soda, I’m a necessary
ingredient to this recipe.
See the outrage pour when the
tiny little teaspoon gets it in her
head to fly off, leaving
A burly house sparrow–incessant
into the swallow’s house
and the air is atwitter
outrage meeting pure
tenacious settler mentality.
In other places, I am bubbly,
effervescent. Here, my forthright
boundaries are too much,
leaving a bitter taste
when everyone just wants sugar.
A green heron chases his sister,
a new arrival, into a tree. There can be
only one. She practices branch
poses, still and wary
as he collects his minnow meal.
As I leave, I carelessly strike
a match here in this house
of cards. It will all end in ashes.
The others scuttle in fear
watching my bold wind,
the walls fluttering and anxious
at the coming conflagration.