Tall trees hide many birds
as we walk into the forest.
Unfamiliar birds gossiping
puts our quiet time to rest.
Onward we go dreaming;
wishes for the old times.
We spread out rugs, food;
looking up, down, around.
A bird pounces. One, two,
four, bread slices disappear.
Another bird pounces softly;
fruit pieces are vanishing.
We nibble on what is left,
photographing the birds.
C & K 