He showed up on a
Sunday (I remember my
Portuguese, Sunday=Domingo)
And began to sing.
He sings of doves in lower
Terraces and bushtits in hedges.
He sings of hawks in high
Distance and a lazy cat --he makes
All their sounds, announcing to all
Birds this is a good garden to nest in.
He is a virtuoso --his opera includes
Survival-- and the birds come.
There is nothing medicinal in
His art of reciting himself
But he helps other birds decide,
And he makes me feel good.
I call him Placebo Domingo.
"Bravo", I tell him. "Bravo!"
