Slim came to me with this one, apparently he has taken up bird watching.

The Low November Sun

The low November sun
hits the silver birches
and the cherry tree
sending the bush tits
and the black-capped
chickadees
into a flitting frenzy
Who pulled the alarm?
Which one is my nest?
Where did I leave that worm?

Followers of this blog will, of course, remember Slim’s only other attempt at a poem about nature:

Nature Poem

you call your

self a tree?

my bank has

more branches.