FOOD FOR THOUGHT
by Paul Weinman
Birds began dying at the feeder.
I watched horrified while seeing
their slow talk of seed
their half-hearted attempts to fly.
Most died within the try ...
just toppled over - a few
perched as if stuffed for display.
A couple fell to the ground.
Cats came, crouched
slunk away.
I took the bodies in
wrapped them in blue tissue
stacked them in shoe boxes.
I talk about it
at single's bars.
