Cracked Corn

From my front porch in winter
I throw a little cracked corn to the world
Who can beat the sparrows in
all flit and scatter and return
pecking their way around the feet
of the domestics: chickens, ducks and the big
        bombers
our geese who come rolling up, mostly to bully
There are pleasures in distribution
where the leaves may fall
the assignment of heron to water
beside the house
My love of windows, this habit
of looking out I have, now into cold February
Who can imagine a better life?
The day, quiet, just invented
The start of crocus