At the Feeder

by Peter Notehelfer
Tibor Lazar

Tibor Lazar

There are weeds growing beneath the feeder
   The collateral damage of kindness
One feeds birds not for their good manners
   but for the joy of seeing them play 

Daily the storehouse is refreshed with seed
   Their mission: to devour & scatter
      ‘Consider the lilies of the field’
      ‘Consider the birds of the air’

Daily the least in the kingdom come to feast
   on fare they neither sow nor reap
      ‘What wastrels!’ says the neighbor
      ‘What treasures!’ I would answer

For is it not just so that we come to the table
   of grace? Mendicants & profligates!


8 Comments to “At the Feeder”

  1. The collateral damage of kindness
    What a thoughtful poem.

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