Birds Rhymes with Words
The sun is in my eyes, again, this morning.
The air is calm. The sky clear. This is my
twenty-first morning of getting up early
to write in the quiet of bird songs.
I wonder if I could do this all year.
I do love being up before everyone else,
the hollow whoooing of the doves
keeping me company, the chitters
of, well, I don't know their names.
I know we have starlings and herons
and ibises and pelicans. They're all
awake before me, out and about,
looking for breakfast and singing about it.
Just like me, really, looking for ideas,
searching for a breakfast of words,
and singing a poem about it. I wonder
if I could do this for 365 days in a row?
Am I that hungry? Am I that nuts?
Could I do this for the rest of my life?
Too much pressure, I think, to disappoint
myself. So, instead, I'll just write this morning.
I'll peck away at the worms of ideas
and swallow them whole. I'll let them feed
me today and maybe I'll be here tomorrow.