Birds Are Persons
Poetry
From bed, I flinch as I hear the Robin’s call at 5:21 in the morning as I am trying to sleep, “Cheerily, cheer up, cheer up, cheerily, cheer up.”
The irony. In and of itself, the song is pleasant — it’s the hour that makes it agonizing
All the while, the poor chap is just trying to get some tail.
I roll over, and the Robin sounds again, “Cheerily, cheer up, cheer up, cheerily, cheer up.”
All the different Birds are persons, mind you, and they have personalities to boot.
Although Birds are largely concerned with sex and their next meal they still have flickers of character — a glimmer of curiosity, a flash of playfulness.
Some recognize their names.
Akin to the Birds, we humans tend to be mesmerizingly focused on our feed and sex It doesn’t matter whether you live in a first or third-world country, if you wake up at 10:00 or 5:21 in the morning.
At least the Birds see provisional nourishment as their present duty — a Bird’s desire to flourish. How many times have we neared the middle of our meal and already started to crave our next?
Or fondled the food’s worth by devoting our attention instead to a black mirror.
Can we really taste and see concurrently?
From these creatures perhaps we can learn. Multitudes of people would certainly be less stern
Birds don’t make atom bombs. Birds make homes.
And what more can we ask, then to be fully concerned from moment to moment with each moment's strains and each moment's trials?
O to be a Bird, for just one day — an hour even!
I really don't care which kind. Let nature pick from the Mandala of Birds.
Heck — I’ll be a crooked-legged, moth-eaten Vulture.
Forget the mindfulness, I am much more concerned with the weather — ideal flying conditions
O to experience flight! A day, a day is all I ask for. That seems reasonable. I am a fast learner. I will learn quickly.
“Cheerily, cheer up, cheer up, cheerily, cheer up.” THAT BLASTED ROBIN!
It is 5:33, and the sun has begun to rise.
Thank you for reading! © Daniel Barry, 2021
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