I watch the birds sometimes,
Looking at them as they fly.
There’s something so innocent
About a creature in flight,
As if, at any minute,
They might drop and face unimaginable death.
The way their wings spread,
The way the wind collects them in its grasp,
It’s all so precious.
I sometimes listen to their calls,
High above in the trees,
The way they move,
Though hardly change for weeks.
The way my mouth moves in tune
With their beaks.
I urge you to listen,
Just for a second,
Long enough to see them glisten.
Imagine being that careless,
Not in human form, that would imply you were restless
But listen in a beautiful way,
The sounds change from night to day.
These creatures, they live in another world,
A world that we all soon shall hold.