Poetry Corner: Dinner Guests

by Jim Farfaglia

 

Four and twenty blackbirds

baking in this August heat

fly into my backyard

and rest in the cool evening shade.

 

They peck at my mowed lawn for hors d’oeuvres,

take turns at the feeder for today’s entrée,

then use my larger-than-life fingerbowl

to wash the weariness from their day.

 

There’s not a feather of color on any of them.

Their call carries not a note of beauty.

But I love how they flutter when I say hello,

how they scatter and disappear

 

and how they always come back.

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