The seed eaters, the vegetarian birds,
Redpolls, grosbeaks, crossbills, finches, siskins,
Fly south to winter in our north, so making
A sort of Florida of our best blizzards.
Weed seeds and seeds of pine cones are their pillage,
Alder and birch catkins such vegetable
Odds and ends as the winged keys of maple
As well as roadside sumac, red-plush-seeded.
Hi! with a bounce in snowflake flocks come juncos
As if a hand had flipped them and tree sparrows,
Now nip and tuck and playing tag, now squatting
All weather-proofed and feather-fluffed on snow.
Hard fare, full feast, I'll say, deep cold, high spirits.
Here's Christmas to Candlemas on a bunting's budget.
From this old seed eater with his beans, his soybeans,
Cracked corn, cracked wheat, peanuts and split peas, hail!
Robert Francis, Robert Francis: Collected Poems, 1936-1976, University of Massachusetts Press, 1985.