Winter Birds

Winter birds in my backyard
Jump from seed to seed
To tree to seed to air.
I think it must be hard
Gathering the feed
To make a winter out there
Bearable. The suet cakes of lard
Give them what they need.
This flock must nest quite close. But where?

A film of dead dried wood and gypsum
Traps me furnished furnaced warm.
A man with no such thing
Finds that the winter nips him.
But backyard birds that flock and swarm
Even the coldest days will sing
Despite that heat has but eclipsed them.
They know a freedom to its form.
Do I? Oops, there’s a cell-phone ring.