Never a Birder Will I Be

Glancing at Audubon's drawings in a bookstore window,
occasionally researching a description to cast a name, but
never becoming a birder, an acolyte of the winged afield,
remaining unschooled, unlettered in those with feathers.

At times wondering whether wise or foolish not to know
each avian’s character that partakes of my wife’s largess;
for in knowing, even learning, the details of each visitor,
thus becoming proficient of some facts and figures, yet
deficient in the grace and beauty of the actual visitation.

So, shunning details, immersing only in the moment of
their presence, in the beauty of their being, their gift of
flight and fancy, with purpose in remaining blissfully
ignorant so that details never detract from the actual.