Some birds are strange to me
The ones at the feeder I see
Nose, two ears and four feet
Beneath of thee.
Whatever ever type of bird could they be?
A deer?
A deer you say
Stealing seed
Right in front of me!
But the way they fly
Over fence and hill
They must have gained
A little ‘Bird’
In their birdseed fill.
I will watch until the spring
When the feeder is no longer
Filled with magic seeds
That make a doe
Into this strange bird
I see flying over fence and hill.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2013