At the branch of a bank,
the tellers in little snatches
throughout their day
have a view outside
of wrens and finches
taking turns at a feeder—
spilling seed in the manicured grass.
As I waited in line, I wondered
whose idea to set it up.
Did they need permission,
the approval of management
to change décor? No matter. 
Here in this regulated climate,
as they swivel to Muzak
in matching chairs,
they can see beyond 
the transactional world
of deposits, withdrawals;
beyond their courteous smiles
and the bright trill of their
how-may-I-help-yous,
to a fluttering frenzy—
to the business of birds.