Apologies from a Birder, a poem-ish thing
I know that white supremacists have commandeered our nation,
And loud-mouthed jerks with bad intent are heard on every station.
I know that modern progress means destroying every beauty,
And more and more around the world see meanness as their duty.
I know you think I should step up and join the protestation,
But all that has to wait until the end of spring migration.
I know the garden needs some work. I know the house needs cleaning.
And leaves have filled the gutters and that post back there is leaning.
And the car still needs an oil change and it’s due for an inspection,
And the whole damn world has gone to hell since they won the election.
I know that standing up now is all good folk’s obligation,
But I can’t help it’s April and the start of spring migration.
Spring migration, spring migration! Warblers, thrushes, bunting!
Standing still for hours, then hiking miles while hunting.
Seeing nothing for a day, then things you’ve never seen,
Forgetting everybody for that flutter in the green.
Spring migration! When it comes, you have to go out then,
For if you let it pass this time, it may not come again.
So I’ll leave the garden in this state until It’s almost June,
I’ll leave that post, the gutters, and that bush I need to prune,
Forget the car, forget the house, I’ll leave the march to you,
I’m sure the bad guys won’t be gone when the next six weeks are through.
Go knock ‘em dead in DC with its nasty infestation!
And excuse me while I go enjoy another spring migration.
~~~~~~~~~
I wrote this in April of 2017 but it seems just as relevant now. 🐦🪶
