crumbs.

all those crackers you and I put out
for the birds
got wet
and ruined by rain
before anybird had a chance
to eat them. then,
not too long after
I finally cleaned them up,
I saw a single, lone bird –
a glossy black slightly iridescent-feathered guy
with a brassy, sassy chirp and
a bold yellow beak and legs,
cute as the day is long
and twice as brave
in the face of my extremely
interested cats –
come by and land right on the
deck, to pick and peck
at the crumbs.

the moral of this story?
turns out it is possible
to have too much
of a good thing.
save your spread
for the ones who will
appreciate it
rather than pouring out
your whole heart at once –
spending your love like something
you’re trying to get rid of –
in the hopes that someone
will happen by
to eat it all up.

Published by

R. Brookes McKenzie

what fresh hell is this

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