Poet's Korner

With rubble and wars abroad and oily water and joblessness at home, distress seems more or less universal. But fret not. As always, Chris Peebles has taken it upon himself to lift us all from the depths of despondency. We present you his innovative new Peeblesian sonnet entitled "Winged Infiltration." Sip:

Why have the birds built their nest in my house?
My house has small windows that are rarely open.
The door, too, stays shut most the time--unless
someone is coming or going.
How, then, did these avian interlopers gain entry
to my abode?
Somebody let them in.
But who?
And when?
And why?
Do they think my Formica needs a veneer of white excreta?
Or my carpet more downy feathers than it already has?
I like birds just as much as the next homeowner,
but this is an outrage.
Excuse me if I don't like robins in my home, or eagles,
or whatever they are.
I'm no ornithologist--I took my training in botany.