Hari B Parisi

In the Background a Goat Bleats Shrilly

My son stopped by earlier.
He’s going up in the hills to scout sites
for a birding gaggle
that’s heading out early Saturday,
when the sun is supposed to show,
after days on end of gray.

I’ve been housesitting at a friend’s
place in the country—
let the hens out of the coop
a couple of hours ago to eat bugs,
scratch and peck,
which makes them happy,
as happy as chickens can be, I suppose.

Hanging from his neck will be
his binoculars, camera.
His eyes will focus upward,
note any sightings:
date, time, location, species, color, sounds,
more specs that I’ve no clue about.

The sky to the north is darkening—
better get the chickens in,
get myself in.
I hope he’s got a raincoat.