The Heights of Impotence

Common Grackle

The Heights of Impotence

I’ve asked
the dark grackles,
feathers colored
as oil colors water,

to mind the warblers,
the nervous sparrows,
as they cluster
at the feeder,

but they bully down,
assuring each other
with clicks and whistles,
I’m and oaf, to slow to mind,

and the sparrows,
common clods, deserve
no place within the shade
where the feeder hangs.


Inspired by The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Delayed Contact.”


One thought on “The Heights of Impotence

  1. I had to smile at this poem. Another friend in the blogging neighborhood wrote about Grackles not long ago. Her opinion of them was pretty much the same as yours! She doesn’t like them.


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