Breakfast Birds

Chuck and Margie are sitting
In the tiny cold kitchen
Drinking cups of weak coffee

Warmed only by six decades
The birds out the window
Feel lucky enough

To scatter sunflower seeds
A dark radius on the snow
They may not speak or

Bickering or
Another cup without asking or
Dialing down the intensity for a moment


The lucky birds
Make it through
Another hard winter

We remember
We talk of them now




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