Habitat

We plan, like architects
to bring the outdoors in,
parrot like realtors
the charms of a tree house,
for up on this hill,
birdsong is tangible.
We always get
what we want, camouflaged

in our mossy cabin, high
above the threshold
of discovery. Open sky.
360-degree views. Proximity to water.
Reliable food sources. Plenty
of nesting material. Gravel flies
from under the foot of a rabbit

fleeing a resident eagle.
Ravens and jays battle
over kibble, shit bomb the deck.
They want in,
past windowpanes that trick them.
Frenzied. Talons flashing, they enter
through a door in the firmament.

I guide them outside, stunned
at the feel of wing bones.
Banging hearts. A hummingbird goes
stillborn in the cup of my hands,
then, buzzers off, leaving a tang
in my throat, a ring
of ruby dust on my finger,
incriminating as pollen.