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)