Cedar Waxwings
by Scott Shaffer

“A Cedar Waxwing!”, my wife exclaims.
This overcast, frigid winter morning, we breakfast

in our four-seasons, back porch; spot this rare,
dear visitor on a spare limb above our bird bath.

A sprightly sunbeam, she cavorts under dreary clouds, enlivens
our stark landscape. Her sorrel, gray, and lemon-yellow feathers

are smooth and velvety; some wing feathers blink like beacons
with red, waxlike tips–due to her favorite meal of berries?

Other playful accents include: a tawny, laid-back crest;
a midnight-black mask with a white stripe; a yellow-banded tail.

“Usually in a group,” opines my best-loved birder.
We scan the bare linden tree, frozen yard, and few feeders.

Sure enough, “There flits another, and another …
I count seven!” Soon we tally 12 wandering waxwings!

Some frolic around the water–we gaze, as if observing
a party of elves celebrating life amidst nature’s wonders.

Our breakfast always nourishes our bodies.
On mornings like this, our souls delight in the richest of fare.



 

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