She perches outside the kitchen window
Watches me wash dishes,
Cocks her head and calls out,
We’re hungry, where’s the seed?
Have you forgotten to what you agreed?
I’m surprised to see her,
Winter’s been a long time coming,
She only visits when it’s cold:
The blustery rosy reddening cheek biting
Finger numbing kind,
Which only arrived today mind!
She joins her flock,
Black headed, white breasted,
They look like stuffed felt toys
Fluffy balls tossed by no child’s hand,
Moved by the wind moving over land.
Chickadee’s back, she hops outside,
Pecks at the kitchen window,
I fill a bucket with millet, amaranth, thistle
Wrap my shoulders in a woolen shawl
Step out the door, scatter seed and grain all around
In a circle on the frozen ground.
A gust of wind brings the flock over
They pick at morsels, feast together
Hopping by my feet
Until bellies full they fly away
Disappearing for the day.
I return to the dishes
Warm stiff fingers with hot water
Steam rising from the sink
I hear pecking at the foggy window
Where Chickadee’s back scratching into the hazy pane