His Emptiness

I wait all spring
for birds to tell me
what the season is about
the robin pecks at early worms
the crow cusses me out
chickadee's dominion
is disturbed by in-migration
they ran away all winter
(while he endured the worst
she had to offer)
I don't mean
to put words in your beak
but everyone knows that sex
is all that makes you speak
the need for a mate
makes you meek
the male of the species
has the prettiest plumage
but only his kind
cares to watch
him compete
chasing attention
in a dead cold heat
meet His Emptiness
anywhere but
the middle of the road
love gone flat
like the feathers
on his back
hope squashed
like a
toad

~ ~ ~

April 16, 2025
Torbrook Mines, Nova Scotia

Year 18, Day 6366 of my daily journal.