Friday, 17 August 2012


A bird hovers above the yard,
hanging and humming without
nectar in a plastic feeder --
beady gaze, but with vision
like a giant foil-eyed fish.

I think the saccades are out --
summer, and the din sounds like theirs.
From the back porch, my expanse
is neatly protected by
hanging and hemming foliage.

But as I unscrew the cap from
my sweaty bottle of beer
something seems to be missing --
maybe it’s a long dead shrub,
maybe it’s a thing more dear.

© E R Olsen

Drones: From War Weapon To Homemade Toy

E R Olsen writes poetry and practices law in Nevada, in the U.S., where he lives with his wife and four children. His poems have appeared in several U.S. journals, most recently in Viking.