Maintaining a bird feeder 
by Jack Love

Seeds fall to dirt
In piles now where
Weeds sprout,
And a fiend gnaws
On the feeding tray—
A creature that scares
Our birds away.
Yet I toil and mask
Away with duct tape,
New contraptions
To face each day.
No value stems
From sprouting weeds
Nor from the feeding
Of squirrels, cardinals,
Sparrows that part
With the falling of leaves.
And yet we work together
For some goal intangible
To feed our semi-domesticated
Wildlife.