The blackbirds landed

One, two, three

Hoping they soon

Would eat for free

With the colored corn

They stuffed their beaks

When the cobs were bare

They began to seek

Their dark eyes shifted

Up, down, side

For morsels of food

Where might they hide?

A telling squawk

Called the flock

To the largest bird

And the prize he’d got

The blackbirds landed

One, two, three

Talons, feathers, beaks

What could it be?

Orange bits

Of pumpkin flesh

Dripped from blackbirds

As they went

Desperate, hungry, discontent