Out of my upstairs window
I am aware of my humble place
In a vertical world.
The top of the bird feeding station
Which I can barely reach
Is pretty low in the tits' estimation.
I see them eye the fat balls from their perch
Wondering whether to stoop so low
Will they indulge my earthbound yearning?
And entertain my wish to please
The gods above
Or, given the bounty of trees and sky
Am I too far beneath them?