Sonnet #345

 The feeder of the jay is the feeder

Of the mice, and the feeder of the hawk

And the feeder of the worm, so talk

About the cardinals when they come here

Celebrate your thrushes and warbling friends

For slipping in the grass the mouse comes, too,

And behind the mouse, the snake, the feral who

Will leave their kits alone to fend behind the shed

A simple action in the yard creates a

faction

That finds another faction that seeks them dead

We place our lovely feeder on the fence line

And stand behind the window, seek cardinals red

We have brought the war to our fair grass

And we think it so adored, a fluttering, a flute, feathers pass