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There was that winter I stood outdoors
in the snow as if a statue with one hand
extended, palm up, sunflower seeds offered
to whatever birds would come. Chickadees
eventually trusted enough so they'd land
on my hand, take a seed and fly off
to a nearby branch where they'd open
the shell, extract the seed, and fly off again
to a shingle on the house or the trunk
of a tree with a bit of loose bark and hide
the seed. It seemed I never noticed the cold,
though I would stand in the snow a very long time,
sometimes just offering an empty hand to see if
they would come without an offering. Some would still
land on my hand, but I could tell as they looked
and looked and then flew off that what they had
come for was not me. Still, their touch
kept me returning day after day for more.