The birds are higher than me.
As they sit in the breeze
And they call through the trees
And the sun on their beaks
Warms the air that they breath
Over city and sea
The birds are much higher than me.
As I sit on my couch, in the shade of the walls of my building’s third story, AC’d,
It is Summer!
And the birds know much better than me.
Copyright © 2018 A.M. Wilsonne