A Bird in Hand by Shelly Jones
When the birds come, plumes molting, necks
craned to see your face, do not hesitate:
offer them seeds to peck at, wool for their nests,
scissors to snip snares from their wings.
In return, they will sift lentils from ashes,
collect pine cones nestled on the highest branches,
ribbon golden thread around the castle’s turrets,
while you watch their feathery feats in grateful admiration.
Photo by Jeffry Surianto on Pexels.com