In the bushes
some birds spend
a winter day
to wonder when
their next meal
will present itself
as the ground
is covered with snow
They fluff themselves
to stay warm
as they look
side to side
to seek a vision
of danger
I'm not much different
on the little twig
I find myself
as the cold surrounds
this warm nest
One friend tweets to me
from the next branch
A small conversation
expands for us
across this small distance
then only for him
to fly away
never to be seen again
It must be lunchtime
I'll fry some seeds
and let him go
Barry G. Wick
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