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Kingfisher

Feeding the birds.
By Lee Robinson
Spring 2006 2.15.06

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I have come out
in my pajamas
to feed the birds—
cardinals, a towhee,
finches and sparrows—
the ones I like to think
might some day learn to love me.
I stand on the cliff
above the creek,

the largest animal
these hundred acres hold,
my hubris pitiful,
and you are right to scold me,
screaming as you swoop
from tree to tree,

mad prince
in your blue and white,
bronze-medalled at the breast,

ruler,
even of the sun
who rises at your call
to spread her red-gold wings
over this May morning.

Go away,
I hear you say,
or is it, Stay,
but only if within
that crowded human mind
you clear a place
sufficient in humility
to share this place with me.

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