Direction for my dad

This bird feeder,

tall, framed

with wood and glass,

a silo for seeds,

dangles on long wire

from a high branch

of the live oak.

Last night it thrashed

in the storm, glass

reflected clouded full-moon

and lightning flashes. Lantern-

like it swayed, tossed

in wind currents and electric air.

Through the night we noticed

this torch, testament

to wind's direction

its power, but something more.

Today birds congregate

in steady rain for soaked kernels

and a still perch. Cardinals

click and chirp to set

their position for their mate.

Our binoculars cannot pick them

out of the oak

until a red jet lands,

catches his image in glass

selects a seed

sets his own direction.