Screaming Grackles in bush and tree
The thieving Magpies carrying away their loot
The inevitable Crows whose beady eyes see
Visions of Hitchcock begin to take root

With reputations of a thief or eater of the dead,
I often wonder if that is deserved.
Or are those just tales that we have been fed
Lies and propaganda that we are served?

I watch you in the backyard feeder and bath
Hopping from foot to foot screaming at others
I wonder – can you count or do basic math?
Do the Blue Jays gripe about manners to your mother?

It matters not, as I watch you eat and drink
What mysteries do you hide in your verse?
Yet as I spy on your gatherings, I bethink
What will be said when we once again converse?