Both French doors
open, the living room
feels outside.
He likes to bird watch
from the couch,
part of it just to
say he did.
But it’s true,
it does feel good.
I sit in my rocker,
and hear them all,
early in March.
There is something
new in the neighbor’s
we have not been
able to see
or name.
But hear its
throaty song
as we stare
into the tree.
He likes to keep
the binoculars
on the coffee table.
He likes every thing
in easy arm’s
He has a natural
aversion to movement,
to bending at
the waist.
He says he’s glad
that I moved him
Without admitting
it’s cause he can
lounge on the sofa
and hear
the clicking call
of this year’s
new bird.