A Bird in Hand

By Tom McCabe

Whenever there’s lots of snow falling down,

That can sometimes cause me to frown.

Shoveling isn’t always easy

It frequently makes my back quite queasy.

But then I see my backyard friends

Consuming seed like it never ends.

They trust in me to get them through

Juncos and Siskins to name a few.

I shovel a path to my birdseed stash

And fill the feeders quick as a flash.

They don’t seem to mind my presence at all

So I grab a handful and move at a crawl.

Until I’m next to the shepherd’s crooks

With all the feeders on their hooks.

I very slowly hold out my hand

Hoping one of them will lightly land.

It takes a while, my arm gets tired

But then one lands, and I’m inspired.

He sits on my glove, just inches from my face

And snatches food ’til there’s not a trace

Then he flies away with a quick little flutter

And leaves my heart melting just like butter.

I walk away with birds all around me,

As once again they’ve made me happy.

That tiny little Siskin had no weight,

But he really added some spring to my gait.

As I took up my shovel and attacked the snow

There’s a smile on my face with every throw.