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