Around the tree he peeks at me;
beady-eye.
A seed clamped tight, in a short pointed beak;
he hops around, all upside-down
while other friends stand on their feet
heads right-side up, enjoying sup.
I hear the call come to my ears;
"yank-yank-yank", hopping to the bank;
poised to fly.
The seed gets cracked while his little head bobs
to and fro; see him go
back to the tree where once again;
peach-belly north, he presses forth.
From behind the feeder, head pointed south
I see him chance, take a glance;
feeder's spy.
Yellow and pinks, gray with flecks
of black converge and meld;
then Nuthatch's friends come sweeping in;
Their flash of slate-blue crosses my view!
-Cyndy
Though the poetry is mine, this picture is not one of my own but is taken from a website. I found that I had no photos of these lovely little nuthatches. Isn't he sweet?
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