Birds think they are above us, which they are at times.  They look down at funny stick figures laden with gravity and unable to rise up, to free themselves from weighted chains, forced within sloth-like motions to exist in only two dimensions.  Birds know only unfettered freedom, superior, laughing with conceit and pride at their ability to stay out of reach but for those rumored tubes of fire spoken about in nests.  If you can see shiny slivers of light, stay away, fly high and fast and anywhere, just away, as far as the wind can carry your wings, to live, to tell, to find power and safety among the flock.

© Poem Fix 2013 

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