Nature

It’s the birds I hate most

When June’s grey sky

invades NPR’s report

on the water supply

My morning routine

becomes as impossible

as the debate over caffeine-

coffee or tea? so philosophical

The sun’s not even up! I growl

pulling over my covers

Fifty-seven doves Coo!

to their mottled old lovers

Outside my back porch

They scratch and they flit

The cat ‘s here, asleep!

as luck would have it

I’d rise and I’d shine

I’d not bum about

if the birds wouldn’t consort

day in and day out