JUNCO PIN POEM

Written by Jen Chubb

* Please do not reproduce, copy or share this poem.

“That one’s a junco,” Nana said to me

as we gazed out the window, to watch the birds eat.

She pointed to a fog-colored fellow on the ground

who stood out against all the snow falling down.

“Junco,” I chuckled, trying out the word.

“That’s a silly sounding name for a bird!

Does he collect junk for a junk company?

Is he taking out the trash?” I asked gleefully.

“Yes,” Nana laughed, “nothing goes to waste

when forgotten fallen seed is your favorite taste.