unfettered,
unlike us
with our boring bland skin
in tertiary hues,
grounded,
stuck,
heavy.
on finespun masts.
Oh if only I could weave
a flying carpet
with your discards.
Flowers unfold,
nectar ready for
your saturated beaks
to feed the world.
Awake me with your song!
Squawk in the trees!
Who wants that branch?
I do! I do!
Offspring of giants
who once ruled the earth,
doomed encore
because of us.
If you die, we die.
No dawn for our babies.
If you die, we die.
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