Saltine specks, and cornbread flecks,
call grackle and sparrow to my ledge.
6.30 a.m., is about when it begins,
as they awake from some dewy hedge.
Shiny eyes and carefree song,
they bring with them such glee.
Which they share, mostly unknowing,
the gift it is to me.
These prison bars, they dissipate,
as they alight upon my sill,
then fly away, up towards the sky,
at their whim and will.
Their freedom and their innocence,
are no longer virtues of mine.
But as I watch, they are refilled,
even if for a little time.