My lawn has flowered,
and the flowers gone to seed;
and a flock of tiny, little, twitty birds
has come to grace the lawn;
and there’s a feeding frenzy ongoing.
A perch steady on a blade of grass,
A pretty beak held out to trap
the long stalk of grassy seed,
and to pull tiny seed off like a rake,
right into the beak to swallow and taste.
In tiny, silent, pretty gorge
as each a tendril of seed brings down;
to harvest with beak a once go over.
Birds at breakfast, my lawn the table set,
A bountiful banquet, for all and sundry
©GayUganda 19 Nov. 07