I fill the feeder with black oil
sunflower seeds,
hang a berry suet cake,
scatter wildlife peanuts on the snow-covered deck,
fill the heated birdbath with water.
Then sit on the floor by the sliding glass doors,
cross-legged in a
Christmas-red robe
that I bought at Macy’s
one year when I was sad,
my hands wrapped around
a mug of hot tea.
I wait.
And they come, flocking and scampering.
Flickers, sparrows, chickadees, downy woodpeckers,
crimson cardinals and juncoes and tufted titmice,
squirrels sprinting across the snow.
I watch for hours as
time deepens
toward solstice.
And quietly I compute
a holy equation:
giving sustenance
sustains
