The hoovering hordes of redpolls that seemingly inhaled an 8-lb bag of seed in just a few days inspired me to two creative endeavours: a video and another haiku.
Many for the Road
Wings flutter madly.
Eyes shine as seeds disappear.
Feeder sways, empty.
They’re gone for the season I think. It’s nice to think they’re out there somewhere, though, and I guess the same could be said of many things and most people. So here’s a toast to absent-but-not-fallen comrades.