I want you to tell
me your story
even though
I know you can’t
birds don’t speak human language
I can’t comprehend your speech
so it would be foolish to
think any differently
however, your story
is important to me
I’m just a lowly creature
on this planet with you
working for others
slaving away in the heat
living a life not fully my own
with only moments of reprieve
but you
red bird
live only by instinct
demands aren’t made of you
no questions are asked
you hear no lies
bills aren’t due
you are probably never stressed
I’m not even sure if
you sweat at all red bird
you haven’t an inkling
that I am envious
you just continue on
doing what red birds do
atop the weathered shingles
and you can fucking fly
Gloomy Forebodings 