Humble Rhymster

This Sunday Salon Assignment was started by Kelley. She sent her stanza to Lauren. Lauren sent just hers to Mary, and so to Steve and ending with Richard. - 

Humble Rhymster

Unreasonable, I think as I check the thermometer which hovers around 8 degrees. 

The pewter sky is flat, void of joy endless, like February itself. 

I poke at the embers in the fireplace, 

As rusty orange as the feathers of the Towhee on the feeder outside my window.

She snacks on suet and sunflower seeds, not a bit bothered by the cold.

So come now, fair towhee, all downy a soul, Is yesterdays’ endeavor our curious tomorrow’s? 
 

Fancy us a single note further to penetrate the trill. 

As we hang weathered from our sills In the flick of your golden hour.

 Still it snows, yet you remain in brown and black puffer jacket 

standing on one leg – wax on wax off. 

I sit inside with tea or shall I dress in blacks and browns, 

stand one-legged in your tracks, whisper in your feathered ear 

the song of spring’s streams of ants and mounds of mouth-watering moths. 

I watch on my Bird-TV my unfolding telenovela 

orange and black towhee today's favorite character 

going through your daily machinations 

your hunger, desire and curiosity become one 

as you break the fourth wall of this production .

And Towhee do you turn and see yourself in glass? 

See trills and hear the orange and brown and black? 

Or do you see another of your feather mock your moves? 

Perhaps you see into the pane and through the murky cave 

into the muddy souls of lumbering giants 

all looking out at you and pecking fumbled words of wonder.