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.