Bird watching…

The north wind is blowing cold showing his north face.
Winter is not over yet. And yes, he is showing his north face
'cause he is a grumpy old man blowing his icy breath through
his frozen, sizzling beard all the way from north pole
bringing us ice and snow and soft hail.
Maybe he is Father Christmas.
Christmas in April with springtime a-knockin'?

Winter is coming, as the wise men said.

Lights reflecting lights. Light shadows in white mists and fogs.
I am sitting… Or am I not? I am lying. I am flying. I am floating.
I am drowning. I am crying.

Ground control to Major Brom.
Where am I? Where are I?

Sliding and gliding in space. There is something wrong.
Can you hear me, Major Brom?

I'm sitting here in a house, a very big house in the country
watching birds gathered around a funny little wooden house
filled with seeds and semen mainly sunflower seeds.

All these little birds freezing. Tits and sparrows.
Green finches and blackbirds and a magpie from time to time.
And every time they hear an unknown noise or spot a sudden movement
they fly up in the sky almost panicking. Like a stampede in the air.
But they are sure to be back only moments later.
Hungry, greedy.

What about survival of the fittest?
Are we killing the birds by feeding the weak and inapt
and allowing them to spread their damaged DNA which
would let them and their offspring starve to death in winter
'cause they become too dumb, too old, too weak or simply
too lazy to find food on their own in this season?

Isn't that a question old as mankind?
The question of man interfering with nature
manipulating the way and circle of life?
Doing bad things by wanting good?

This is no winter. And this is no springtime either.
This is a long and winding, grey and rainy, never-ending autumn.

(So the story begins)

City dweller, successful fella thought to himself

Oops, I've got a lot of money

Caught in a rat race terminally

I'm a professional cynic but my heart's not in it

I'm payin' the price of livin' life at the limit

Caught up in the century's anxiety

Yes, it preys on him

He's gettin' thin, try the simple life

He lives in a house

A very big house in the country

Watchin' afternoon repeats

And the food he eats in the country

He takes all manner of pills

And piles up analyst bills in the country

Oh, it's like an animal farm

That's the rural charm in the country

He's got morning glory and life's a different story

Everything's going jackanory

Touched with his own mortality

He's reading Balzac, knocking back Prozac

It's a helping hand that makes you feel wonderfully blind

Oh, it's a century's remedy

For the faint at heart

A new start, try the simple life

He lives in a house

A very big house in the country

He's got a fog in his chest

So he needs a lot of rest in the country

He doesn't drink, smoke, laugh

Takes herbal baths in the country

You should come to no harm

On the animal farm in the country

In the country, in the country, in the country

Blow, blow me out, I am so sad, I don't know why?

Blow, blow me out, I am so sad, I don't know why?

Oh, he lives in a house

A very big house in the country

Watchin' afternoon repeats

And the food he eats in the country

He takes all manner of pills

And piles up analyst bills in the country

Oh, it's like an animal farm

That's the rural charm in the country

Oh, he lives in a house

A very big house in the country

He's got a fog in his chest

So he needs a lot of rest in the country

He doesn't drink, smoke, laugh

Takes herbal baths in the country

You should come to no harm

On the animal farm in the country

Bird-Watching – The Great Escape
Bird-watching's way better than birds watching.
Ducks and covers.

I turn around leaving the porch taking down my binoculars

entering the house filled with stuffed dead birds

with lifeless yellow glass eyes.

Eagles and hawks and falcons.

Kiwis and parrots and peacocks.

Ostriches and emus and dodos.

Bird watching all over again.

And always remember:

WINTER IS COMING…