Monday, September 28, 2020

Get me out of here


The homebody bird waffles

about flying. 


His head snaps right then left, up 

then down.  Undecided. 


No breeze to help extract -

himself from shore, littered 

with taco chips.  


A few flutters of feather sends

him back onto the land. 


I enjoy his feeble indecision and 

keep him in this state by

tossing more chips. 


He seems content chowing. 

Not having to hunt then mince

bugs down his tube. 

He swallows till stuffed then

sits and stares with me 

into the air, together we

stare at this life. 


The seabird 

could do the same

but ignores the chips. 

A driven creature, ready for takeoff 

as if his tail had been scorched 

by the sun.


He must fly to live. 

He wants to work, to feel

his feathers in full sail

straining 

against wind, eyes angled 

at the sea.


I want to be like him, not me,  

always looking down, 

content with easy morsels 

tossed my way.  


I want to be a seagoing bird--

Close one eye, 

raise wide and high

my wings and hit the wind. 

 

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