Birdwatchers

I.
Through panes of well-scrubbed glass, she glumly peers
at birds she knows. Though she can’t say their names,
she’s drawn by wings that swoop and songs she hears
through panes of well-scrubbed glass. She glumly peers
at feathered flight, so jealous she’s near tears;
she wishes she could somehow join their games
through panes of well-scrubbed glass. She glumly peers
at birds she knows, though she can’t say their names.