2 Poems

what’s this you hear

from every tree top

every telephone wire

not bird song but

bird chatter no

more than beak speak

not mating melody

nor rhapsody merely

territorial twitter

go on deluded man with

every tweet and trill

believing what you must

what you will

no one needs to tell the snow

to be quiet when it falls

winter rain however

is another matter

it clatters against the windows

and disturbs your rest

or scratches with icy fingers

on the glass

as if some one or thing

were trying to get in

snow lets you sleep

no matter how hard it falls

or deep