We Are Not Birds
We are not all
For we are not birds.
When a bird perched on a wall
Bordering the sea,
With its beak and pink bony knees,
Walks and squawks and feeds
On the leavings we leave behind,
We can see and know that clearly
But we cannot fly.
When a bird flies, it’s a different thing:
From here to there in a second flat,
A feathery coat that lasts, and wings
Instead of arms.
Over the deep green water
Birds are gone just like that.