It’s almost deafening and definitely distracting, the
flock of sparrows munching with enthusiasm
on a large weed in the last wild corner of the garden.
I sit on the porch with my journal and coffee, listening.
Graeme’s feeders are full
but the sparrows find the weeds more to their taste,
darting into the cedar hedge at any perceived danger,
then back to gorge themselves at their breakfast buffet.
Beside me, bumble bees gather orange dust with a low drone
A sudden movement along the fence top
and the dog leaps up to dash after a squirrel
who is gone in a flash, leaving the dog panting after it’s scent.
A Flicker surveys all from the top of the Oak tree as
the sparrows scatter in disgust. And I wonder,
how could I have presumed that this abundant kingdom
would ever offer me solitude