As If Fairytales Could Never Eat

Black-capped chickadees stormed
The ornamental plum
In a trilling, chirping,

Peeping, scratchy, tweeting,
Whistling ruckus of lives
Hungry to keep living.

This was not a human
Story, old fairytale
In which magic birds talked

To a child or a fool,
A sage, monk, or poet,
Though a human wrote this.

This was a chickadee
Narrative, in which birds
Gathered at a good tree,

Ate their fill, greedily,
Signaling all the while,
Then looked for their next meal.