Snowbird

Black-billed magpie
Hopping ‘bout my tree,
Could you please stop
Throwing snow down on me?

I know that for you
It’s a pleasure, a game,
But this shivering boy
Doesn’t need icy rain.

I would much prefer
That you roost on a branch,
Rather than scrambling
In a snow scattering dance.

Now don’t get me wrong,
It’s not you I detest,
Simply the melting snow
That trickles against my chest.

To be terribly honest
I love you so,
You plumage is handsome
Like a bird tuxedo.

So I guess what I’m saying,
What I hope I've implied,
Is that I’m happy you dance;
Just wait ‘til I’m inside.

The End

3 comments about this poem Feed