“A Carrion Crow Under Snow in Annecy” by Pierre Selim, via Wikimedia Commons.
Maple Bacon March Morning
A towhee’s red-rim eye caught sun yesterday,
relentless before the rain followed up
a moonless night of clouds
buffering the barred owl’s call.
On the wire, swallows step sideways,
making room. The flicker chooses
the chimney crown, drumming
his way to sex and vaunted chests.
A stellar jay follows my sleight of hand
feeding the crows on the mailbox,
the hand that mixed the fat with kibble
for the crows who stayed
through ice and several feet of snow.
The crows who like the fat the best
and for whom I ate the bacon.
Tricia Knoll is an Oregon poet with two books in print – Ocean’s Laughter (Aldrich Press 2016) and Urban Wild (Finishing Line Press 2014). Website: triciaknoll.com