No Threat, Nuthatch
       

Tiny presence in the pines,
hold still. Upside down—
right side up-flock of nerves
and fretful hunger. Hold still.

Your brothers and your sisters
have forgotten me. That's how still
I have managed to be,
pip pip pip. No stillness
for the foragers. How I love
to make no difference here.

My throat like yours—
rapid little tremor,
heart-freight, air.

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Copyright © 2013 Sally Ball All rights reserved
from Wreck Me
Barrow Street Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission