by Paul Beck


From the top of a crab apple tree

A House Wren chattered incessantly

He had spotted me passing close by

To this territory that he plied

Up and down the branches he scurried

All the while singing his song of worry

I watched his performance much amused

Enjoying the antics of this muse

Until I spotted the source of his woe

For he thought me a dangerous foe

Across the field in a blue bird house,

Emerged the brown feathers of his spouse

She quickly flew to join her dear peer

Warbling her own warning to my ear

How cheerfully they did make their case

I was torn to stay or give them space

Wishing to be a passing neighbor

I moved away from their house labor