Song of Starlings ©

Starlings talk
like Bushmen:
listen for clicks
amid their song;
there's Kalahari
in Shetland (!)
The v-shape wings
glide in day sky;
glittered feathers
touch down
on snow.

Thin bills
poke through
dry bread slices -
they waste
no time picking
the crumbs (!)
through this winter
can't let
them starve;
my heart is glued
to the window.

I've nailed apples
on the fence posts -
my eyes
check dykes
and chimney pots;
along with
few hungry sparrows,
they come
to feed
between blizzards.

Spring's still hiding
under ice;
I hear them sing -
they come and go...
the apple cores
freeze in the wind;
I count their prints
left in the snow.
Will they survive
the next morning?

I'll wait for them each new morrow.