For the Birds by PW Covington

I hold no deep
For the small, brown, birds
That gather
At my red feeder,
Hanging by a wire
From my front yard pecan

But, I spend a portion
Of my Air Force pension
Every week
At the market
To buy packaged seed

I would miss them,
I suppose
If I could not hear
Their peeps and trills

From my sunny, winter, morning
Coffee porch

pw covington

PW Covington is a disabled veteran and convicted felon. His work has been published by both universities and underground ‘zines. He travels widely, but lives in rural Texas with his bulldog, Chesty.


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