The Birdie

Two-room country shack
On a moody lake.
A black cat at my feel
To philosophize with

Stretched out on the bed
Like gambler
Who’s lost his trousers
And his shoes,

Listening to a birdie raise its voice
In praise of good weather,
Little wriggling worms,
And other suchlike matters.


From MY NOISELESS ENTOURAGE (Harcourt, 2005)

 

Poems by Charles Simic

Windy Evening

My Noiseless Entourage

The Birdie

  

Leaves at Night
(Available as a broadside.)