The Tricky Chickadee

The Tricky Chickadee

He sneaks into my yard
all sharp and tenacious,
wearing a face mask
as we all do these days.

He rushes a sunflower,
steals savory seeds
right from its heart
then makes a frantic getaway.

From the safety of his gang
high in the trees,
he shares a joyful snicker
at our human gravity.

In victory he cries—
trick-a-dee-dee-dee,
trick-a-dee-dee-dee,
trick-a-dee-dee-dee!


This is the poem I wrote with my pals at Charles House yesterday. We focused on bird poetry, including Dickinson’s Hope is the thing with feathers, Shelley’s To a Skylark and Frost’s The Last Word of a Bluebird, which seems to be a fun one he apparently wrote for his daughter Lesley.

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9 Responses to The Tricky Chickadee

  1. Lisa Tomey says:

    He’s pretty fortunate.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Cassa Bassa says:

    That’s delightful! The face mask 👍😁

    Liked by 1 person

  3. JeanMarie says:

    Nice. Bird poetry is a welcome breath of air after the slew of political frenzy,

    Liked by 1 person

  4. That’s a cute one.

    Liked by 1 person

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