My window feeder birds wait out the night
on hidden branches of nearby shrubs and pines
where writhing winter winds can’t reach them quite
the way they would along the power lines.
My window feeder birds retard the cold
with shivers in a frantic, desperate haste—
they burn themselves, beneath their down to hold
the heat, to save themselves from frigid waste.
My window feeder birds resist the wind,
though not by strength of grip or force of will:
The touch of inner balance keeps them pinned
to perch, to life, despite the gusts and chill.
…. We seek the balance when the night blows stark
…. and shiver as we hold on through the dark.