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  • Forsooth, dear patrons of my foolish tales,

    Would that you might bend your tempered ears.

    For I would tell you of winter's delight,

    a sight most amusing. This fat, round fellow

    visits daily to purloin a tempting

    morsel, suspended in a wired cage

    beneath a branch of my young purple ash,

    barren in this unseasoned clime. He climbs

    out on the branch, an acrobat of no

    small skill, and hangs suspended over

    wintry snow to reach his goal, kernels on

    the ear of corn below. Unshaken by

    the protestations of fair Olivia,

    he goes about his business. When

    he is done, he climbs out on the branches

    and returns across the complex path

    to the roof of my garage, tomorrow

    to return when I have placed another

    ear of corn within the cage. I admit, it

    would be easier if I, like others,

    placed the proffered treat along the tree trunk,

    or simply laid it on the ground, but I

    have found the entertainment of watching

    his antics in pursuit of winter food

    a pleasant moment to delight my soul.

    Dear reader, I thank you for your kind attention.


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