Nature of Wrens

The neighbors put up a new fence yesterday.  Why they
did this is anyone’s guess, and since I qualify
I will speculate, I’ll take a guess, I’ll have my say
concerning pine-wood monuments half-way to the sky.
This is hyperbole, of course, exaggeration
at its worse, but as fences go, it is higher than
most, and compared to all others, an aberration.

As I sit on the back porch and look outside, I can
see the new fence clearly this August morning.  Let me
reveal my speculation with no further ado.
They built the new fence for the birds--what else could it be?
Unlike all those chain-link fences one can see through,
this fence is solid, gap-free and as I said, high.
But those wee birds, uncaring as birds are, no doubt
wrens in this case if I am any judge of birds, fly
a direct and quick course from forsythia without
any set agenda of malice, ill-will or grudge.
How patient they sit there!  Balanced against any gust
of draft relinquished to lever, the wrens do not budge.

There is no need for me to think otherwise; I trust
I am correct just as the wrens trust they can alight
on curved edges of fence top, balanced like equations
waiting for me to break stale bread into bits despite
its tendency to ball like dough on most occasions.

24 Lines (Rhythm: 13)
Writer’s Cramp
August 21, 2013