You spend an evening among feathers <br />Bobbing and swaying in particular postures. <br />Speaking through dancing and singing <br />Body language is universal. <br /> <br />A cock of the head is the same all the same. <br />He keeps his feathers low in apologetic <br />Transparency. <br /> <br />She does not heed his idle action <br />Fluffing to more self notions <br />Of preening; alone. <br /> <br />He is glad she is alive <br />Glad they are safe. <br />When apart he screams in agony <br />Searching for his only flock member. <br /> <br />Selfish she does not return his desperate calls; <br />Too accustomed to the human ways <br />Of seeing the world through selfish eyes. <br /> <br />Upon her return he sings songs without <br />A proper metronome. <br />Lowering his upper body extending gratitude; <br />Flattening his feathers and crest; <br />Fully exposing his frail stature. <br /> <br />Alas, she was only glad <br />To indulge with the humans, <br />While he with broken wings <br />Hopes one day, to fly.<br /><br />Emily Beck<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/seeds-14/
