The Eavesdropper

The cherry-headed house finch,
Singing richly, was almost
Camouflaged by dark plum leaves.

The eggs had hatched in the nest,
And the usual business
Of parents, provisioning,

Had been revolving in shifts.
The last meal delivery
Came courtesy of the male,

Now pouring full-throated trills
Out of those plum tree shadows
While the female came with more.

The people who owned the house
Were paying no attention,
Watering plants, mowing grass,

Although somewhere in their skulls,
The eavesdropping human brain
Savored elaborate songs.