with eyes on your wings,
You are a free spirit, flitting here,
there then gone. Like Spring,
you always return.
you have stolen my heart
and most of the seeds from the feeder,
but only because you can. Fresh fruit
is your forte
my mulberry is bare, victim
of your appetite. The cobblers next winter
will be mostly crust; I make the sacrifice
It is a small price
to pay for your company
considering your proclivity to thieve
and then fly away
without saying goodbye.