On winter’s margin, see the small birds now
With half-forged memories come flocking home
To gardens famous for their charity.
The green globe’s broken; vines like tangled veins
Hang at the entrance to the silent wood.
With half a loaf, I am the prince of crumbs;
By snow’s down, the birds amassed will sing
Like children for their sire to walk abroad!
But what I love, is the gray stubborn hawk
Who floats alone beyond the frozen vines;
And what I dream of are the patient deer
Who stand on legs like reeds and drink that wind; –
They are what saves the world: who choose to grow
Thin to a starting point beyond this squalor.
*Mary Oliver, who captures nature and the natural world so beautifully. My garden is trying to be the place to which birds return year after year. I have planted many flowering bushes and plants around and about, with annual intent to add more. I have been saying for twenty years that an interest in bird watching is a sign of old age. So be it. I am old. Oldish. And, I know that bird populations are in distress, through loss of habitat, climate change, pollution, and domestic and feral cats let loose to literally kill millions of birds annually. Please, please, please if you are a feline lover, keep your cats indoors! Fewer birds = more bugs, y’know! More bugs = more bites and, potentially, more and more easily spread disease. Just say no, Kitty.