fattish birds are gathered

on the half frozen lake

in front of the house

I want to mingle

mug their winged feathers

& honking bursts of chat

to weave among their warm

plum bodies

but you know

if I descend the bank

they will take off in a loud swoop

perch on a distant patch of ice

out of reach

which says something about

chasing after evanescent love

I say don’t bother if you can’t fly