Thumper

 

He comes,
A flash of red on whirring wing
One winter morning gray,
And thumps upon the window pane
His greeting for the day.
 
Then off!
Again he soars on vibrant wing
Into the winter air,
Darting here and fluttering there,
It seems with little care.
 
He stops.
Is it to rest a while?
Or feast on mealy seeds?
He scatters shells upon the ground
In pleasure as he feeds.
 
He’s back—
His black cap jaunty,
A bright spot in the sky.
He thumps against the window pane,
His version of a hi!