Sense Sonnet - Acher

 Love Birds

It is a wintry, stormy night.

Across the road I watch the field,

With birds above in frantic flight,

Looking for food, but no more yield.

Only a leftover scarecrow

That has nobody left to scare,

Just a once was covered in snow,

No bad or good for birds to share.

I bundle up with bag in hand,

And out into that field go I.

Instinctively I understand,

My love of birds the only why.

Me and the scarecrow, yes indeed,

Hold out our hands with bird seed.