A fat, orange-bellied robin,
connoisseur of worms, sat
on an old phone line, trilling.
A gray heron, just off a rocky
beach in shallows, staring
down like a chess player
at minnows. Crow, political
birds, gathered and quarreled
like union organizers.
A black-hooded junco
sat on a roof and sternly
clicked at me. And a brown
hedge sparrow ran beside
boxwood, saw me, dove
into the brush. Birds
surveil us, live with us.
They're guardians of a kind.
They have their reasons.
hans ostrom 2024
