Birder

The birds
They light high
Up in that leafless tree
Against the gray sky
They both seem barren, fragile
Such small machines, alive
Huddled alone on a limb
Their feathers only to warm them

I am unclear as to their song's intentions
Do they beseech the clouds
Do they beckon to the sun to
Appear and warm them
Or
Do they like me
Want more
To be clothed more fully
Bathed forever bright
In that lovely light
That does not cease

dg

2/8/11

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