Simon is full of glissandi and spondee today
and writes poetry for the literati; that is ok,
it is good to know wonderful words.
I sit on the terrace facing east, a sparrow
has a nest nearby, it sits on the phone line
shrieks without the slightest hint of glissandi,
wants me to go away sees me as a threat to its eggs.
It never learns, saw it last year when it was
protesting my presence. But in the end it realized
I was not a risk and took to singing with many
spondees, impressing its mate.
But Simon is right, if we go on ending the habitat
for song birds, we leave crickets to annoy musical
ears, when heralding spring.
