THE RESOLVE OF HIS RED-BREASTED NUTHATCH
He comes each day to the feeder
Fearless in his approach and perch.
He greets him using the only language he knows.
"Hello," he says.
"Bleep, Cheep, Burr," he answers.
He is ignorant of what he's trying to tell him.
He buries himself tossing seeds out
Looking for that special one.
"I'll find it," he says
And he does.
He pays him little mind for he can't understand him
And he has more important things to do
Than waste his precious few minutes of life
Trying to deal with one such as he
Who can't even fly.