Angry birds, stellar jays and woodpeckers,
squawk and drill beyond the window sill.
I watch, curious about their antics.
Their shrill sounds blast, muted by the pane glass.
Steam from the morning’s mint tea
Gradually obscures my view.
But the screeching and the knocking
scratch against my throbbing eardrums,
And my inner voice screams epithets
upon your name while angry birds do the same.
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