Small, different hues of brown
Little black eyes and tiny pink feet
Junco
Eating the seeds on the ground
Inspiring something inside

The next day,
Clear tubes with red perches
Showed off the mix of seeds
Waiting for the first customer
Disappointed when nothing came

The next week,
Losing hope
Still looking, but not as often
Nothing, the one single Junco
Gone

Then that one day
There were two
Hopping off the fence
Onto those little red perches
Draining the tubes of the food
That had been waiting for them

Slowly but surely
More started coming
New birds
New numbers
Sparrows, finches, thrushes, doves

New feeders
New house

Getting the birds back
A new feeder
Filled with nectar
Waiting patiently
Now knowing it could take a while
And then

One day
Watching out the window
Hoping
That one just one might come
Then not one but three!

All in that one day!
Male and female Anna’s
Male Rufous
Zooming and glimmering
Light reflecting off gorgets
Creating the otherworldly hues
Of purple, red, green

In the days that followed
More feeders
More birds
More knowledge
Much more learned

A new hobby
A new love
That will continue
from that day on
Thanks
To that little
Junco

Crystal chandeliers
shelter an aviary restaurant
just beyond our patio.

A pair of purple finches,
having heard the place well-chirped,
drop in for a hasty lunch
and flit away full and fortified.

A cardinal taxies in to sample
the black oil sunflower seeds,
then revs his engines for the flight
to a chilled Magnolia branch -
scattering  snow tufts as he lands.

Birds of every kin and feather
spread the word from branch to tree
that you just can't beat the tasty fare
at the little wire and glass café
beneath the crystal chandeliers.

*February, 2011