A Fondness for Birds: A Poem

She was very fond of the birds

And the way their wings would take them

Do they have a mere thought

Are they aware of their

ability to transcend the heaviness

and sing without worry of disdain

They’ve no sting of worldly burden

Or need for wishes or for hopes

For them the open air had become

a place for stillness and concentration

Could it ever be lonesome

being unrestrained in so empty a vastness

Perhaps they’re enraptured by the sun

although it blinds them in its light

They even might ask why the rain

shoots down on them from the sky

Some things she’d only ever wonder

but surely, even the birds did know

that falling is just before flying

and feathers get caught in the wind

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