LORELEI
Star-sure and russet-coated,
She perches on the vine;
Small as a thumb and stuttering-throated,
She peers at her nine
Minute fledglings, with beaks wide—
Gaping; then pops the bug inside;
Whirls, pauses, stares, and blurrs her wings,
Then angles off and down
Among the mint; tilts up, and flings
Equivalent of a frown
Back at the ground’s twiggy door,
Whence tiny lamentations pour.