Birds Poem by robert dickerson

</></></></></></>Why we like them I don't know
Maybe it's the way they come and go
So quickly and like the best
Out-of-town guests reserve
Their own quarters well in advance
Somewheres far from here and through
Amazing insouciances never trouble us-
Keeping their own plans and agendas;
Maybe it's the way they never stay:
Happy to take what we give-
Have dinner, a show and leave
In a flash the memories of their songs
Which are never very long,
Or, then,
Maybe it's the way they feed
Their young
And hang such perilous nests
Off heaven's face;
Or maybe because for all those azure
Skies they are still, like us, only prisoners.
Of what? memory? gravity? Need?
Maybe; or maybe
Given our druthers
To legs we simply prefer wings;
So when they're gone we wish them well
Like anything that sings
Holding our breaths til they come back again.