by Julia Griffin

for Sophie

“Drunk birds are causing havoc in a Minnesota town.”—The Washington Post

I perch upon a little branch
At every summer’s end,
Because I know an avalanche
Of berries will descend,

And nourish me with moisture which
Quite satisfies my wishes.
I won’t deny it’s rather rich
But it’s ledish—delicious

(I said ledicious!): rain or shine,
I’ve been here for an hour,
I should suppose, and show and so
Although the sour’s shower

(I shed that)—have I had enough?
Are you suggip! suggesting
Inshinuations? I am tough!
I’m leaning ’cosh I’m resting—

I haven’t fishifinished! Fruit?
It’s vita-vitaminit:
I’m sore you’re shorry! You can shoot
Yourshelf, you litterlinnet:

I’m tuffa thana loushycow!
I’d beeta bluddicat!
I’mlyinon agoddambough!
Showotchoolookinat?