The Birds

The birds are watching me from the wire above.
What are they thinking? Do they see my sadness?
Or are they too busy balancing in the breeze?

The birds have moved on. Perhaps to a more sturdy perch.
Or maybe just down the wire for a better outlook —
Bored by my melancholy.

Do the birds even care what we do down here? Are they aware of our envy? To fly far away at a whim? To leave the ground behind and discover what’s beyond the horizon?

I’m precariously balancing upon a wire. Electricity coursing through. The ground is calling for me to complete the circuit. The sky is calling for me to fly.

Tell me birds…shall I try?

Be well,

Monty

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