I never have to sit too long for something to happen

between the tree line of our wood lot

and the dozen bird feeders hanging from shepherd crooks

in the back of our back yard.

Today, I scrubbed out a Droll Yankee Feeder,

then filled it with seed and duct-taped the spinner

to the, now, clean plastic cylinder.

(It was just to worn and old to hold itself in place.

Sure! I can relate.)

Then I sat on my rickety folding chair to wait.

Soon, a big, ol’ bull chickadee flew in,

picked a black-oil-sunflower-seed from a feeder,

flit to a branch just above my head,

maybe two feet beyond my reach,

to peck around the shell to get his meal.

(A labor intensive job, though worth the effort, I guess,

given the frequency of his culinary endeavors.)

Then, instead of flying off into his day,

he thought to stay and pass a pleasant time

with his benefactor.

He, just there, perched on the branch.

I, comfortable in my chair.

We made a fine pair,

enjoying the not-quite-yet-Spring air.

Each just glad to be together with our new-made-friend.

Neither talking, but, connecting

through our shared sense of an Other

we both knew and Who knows us well.

Enjoying our ten minute Mass and silent prayer –

In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Chickadee,

Amen.