The birds, impervious to my presence,
feather about the feeder
beaking millet and black seeds
as if it were their final season.
Iím on the deck, wine-breathed,
a black dog at my feet,
weighty with treats
I wonder about gravity,
its hand in hoisting pudgie budgies skyward -
sip - my - wine. My dog adjusts
herself in sun-turned circles;
warm fur down and cool fur up, again, again.
Itís turning out to be a damned bonanza
of bulge by air and flab by land. A heft
of bees confirms, rotundly buzzes --
this world -- its walkers, fliers, crawlers, all
as round as this here bottleís bottom, bothered
by the thought their scrumptious somethings might run out.
K.R. Copeland is one of two editors for Sea Stories, the online literary journal of the Blue Ocean Institute, a leader in marine conservation. She is also one of the art editors for the Centrifugal Eye where she creates spot illustrations to enhance written content. In addition to editorializing, K.R. is a frequently published poet and Pushcart nominee.