Little Birds

Helpless noisy chicks spread atop trees for  safe keeping

Naked feeble babes, it is they who are chirping

they somehow find a way to usurp the need for constant tending

with an innate inspiration toward developing an unrealized song

something so distinctive it will bring maternal feeding along

 

Little birds they mature from bare… to fuzz… to feathers

filling the time between eating and sleep and growing just singing along

their destiny designing them to learn their part in the universal melody

before being consumed by a deeper desire as impulsive as fire,

the desire to be free, to fly the coop they’ve been constricted too…

 

spending life at the brink looking down until that first fate filled leap

never really knowing if they’d see a win or defeat

is a heavy burden to bear for any with a wild hair

at that moment they have no choice but to try

recklessly abandoning all care, fully investing

in leaving the nest they’ve been living in

with the intention of soaring far

the first step in testing the integrity of their newfound wings

they must allow themselves to be carrying under the instinctive

understanding that they were meant to fly and bring

the melody they’ve been learning to everyone…

 

and if I am that bird, would it not be my duty to spread the freedom

I’ve found in my own wings?

Or must I restrict my rejoicing to those who’ve also found them?

Been blessed to find flight despite their shortcomings,

oh what a wasted life is spent talking about anything

if the pursuit of it isn’t found in the words wake

If those who view the race with you aren’t left smiling

if conversations to often lead to less noble squabbling,

have either component really been

anything but a barrier for each other to make it over?

oh that those birds might remember

there is a duty beneath their feathers

the wind will hold them to it until their last breath

and yet even birds have the sense to follow their fate weightlessly

mindlessly carrying the songs they’ve been given

displaying them in the perfect array

wherever the four winds may carry them

until in the end and death releases them

to again go into the earth for rebirth

through the live fed by  their departure

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