i have selfishly lured them

with suet

bits of old, dry cornbread and seed

so that i could watch moments

of their daily routines

now the mates argue outside my kitchen window

she, with bits of grass in beak

finds settling in the upper rafters of the porch

appealing

while he, grabs the strands  from her and heads

toward the apple tree

already crowded with knothole condos

of returning birds, now skittish at his attempts to

invade their territory

i settle the argument for them, i think

as the loud whirring of the morning’s juice blend

screams its obnoxiousness out the open window

and they both flee in terror..

but ah…she is back

wise in knowing where she wants

to feather her nest

and trusting that the noisy human who has fed her

will watch over her still

from a kitchen window

while envying her feathered freedom