True, it gets soiled
now & then
& after fall
with snow.

Eventually ice
then waiting for
beak-pecked memory.

Spring’s first robin–
full, the mirror bath
catches eyes alike,
revives new stock.

So someone
refills it–it is,
after all, expected.

I take the jug
& pour libations
to my aery brethren.

Honoured by their
short feathery stays,
voyeur to their dips.

Yes, I could do
but it’s not mine
to choose.

And they cannot
do this simple thing,
the water of


Some roles we just acquire or find ourselves playing one day out of the blue seemingly. Context and process can set up these unique situations in which one finds a role one did not predict or ever expect to play. Call it the working out of context and process. Although these wild birds would likely find some way to survive, I am in part responsible for attracting them to the birdbath and responsible for cleaning it and refilling it ultimately.┬áThat’s just the way it is. That’s just the way it has worked out. And…I don’t mind.

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