This poem should probably be edited down, but I had so much fun with this freewrite, I’m posting the whole thing!
I wonder what birds make of us
We don’t sing for joy greeting the sun
rarely offer seductive solo dances to chosen mates
(not in public anyway)
what are they thinking, tweeting happily in the sky
like butter wouldn’t melt in their beaks
How do you process the world when
with a flick of a feathered wrist
you can reduce a threat to
a ground-bound fleck of dust
Maybe birds think that crawling on the ground is good enough for us
they’ll deign to visit but never fully stay.
No wonder we were jealous.
They must have been perplexed about planes.
Birds used to be dinosaurs
except they survived
I don’t know the science
I sometimes imagine pigeons
wearing lizard skin
Cats are also jealous
they can’t lick their fur into wings
possess the gift of flight
by eating their enemies.
Wish I could melt into sunshine
and reassemble. Eat it
like a passion fruit mousse.
Wish I could fly, wings noisy and sure
be my own current
steer through the air with a feathered tail.
Free to visit but not to stay.