On doesn’t disturb a birdwatcher.
And from the corner of my desk, I hear
The particular sounds of a dedicated birdwatcher,
The chattering chirps come quietly, the body tucked and alert.
And you wouldn’t distract a starving child
From the only meal it’s had in awhile.
So intent on getting to the dish and eating it all
Before someone else could possibly take its food away.
You couldn’t think to wake a sleeping person
Whose been working hard all day
Keeping intruders at bay and keeping track
Of all that goes on in its own immense domain and estate.
I’m beginning to think perhaps
I should possibly dip in reverence
Next time I serve her majesty’s meal or snack
And, WINK, she sends me her love across the room
And I’m content at last.