POEM - Grackle Song

Oil stained Grackle chokes
Out his song because spring is in full motion.
Yellow eyed, he observes the leaves
Which have begun to do their little
Flag-waving dance that they do when they change
From tightly wadded buds to flat, waving palms.
They show off a mania for more sunlight
And the arrival of worms at a respectable,
“Peckable” distance, just below the soil,

Robbin shifts his feet in anticipation
He can just taste the plump snack.

The cornucopia of freshly filled backyard
Feeders awaits Grackle and they sense it!
They cough more than sing, with a voice
That is more croup than croon
There is no mistaking the tone:
Winter will return soon enough.

Today is an Italian aria
And thanksgiving all wrapped up into one!