On looking out the window in December
Its Saturday morning in December 2023
I pull the blinds and the room is ablaze with light.
The sun beams blindingly into the room
Glinting off the white hoary frost
That has painted our lawn white overnight.
It’s a uniform speckled green and white.
Looking like a very chilly sight
But with postcard beauty glowing bright
I see the birds flying aimlessly about.
Blinded by this changed white environment all around.
Our house sparrows, blue tits, coal tits,
Robins, chaffinch, wrens, and blackbirds too
Are flitting about in vain searching for food.
On this rock-hard inhospitable ground
I pity them in their frantic hopping around,
I locate scraps of bread and overripe bananas.
I chop them up into small pieces.
And toss them randomly out on the lawn as feed.
Their whiteness blends into my whitened lawn
Now I see we have new visitors.
Starlings and crows swoop down.
In a co-ordinated cacophonous cawing raid
Cleaning my lawn of food left out for the smaller brigade.
I look up the garden and see empty peanut feeders.
I go out and fill them full of nuts.
For my little feathered friends
They quickly appear chirping excitedly.
Clinging on to the meshed side of feeders.
They peck, they feed and fly off.
Quickly returning to peck and chirp again.
Saying, thank you, in birdie notes, most melodious.
They are happy with their newfound food source.
On a cold December morning
Mick O Callaghan