O! O! O! Bird O! Bird!
Why quench the thirst of my enjoyment?
With your melodious beak-flute
It seems like malady to perch
On the rigid composure
Of the branch; or a dancing spectacle of leaves
Bending their way, hunch-backed, peering
Into the earth. Thus this way
Nutrients stream a bewilderment of trees
And nectarine condensation of your beak.
Will you sing to me?
Tell tales, narrate agonizing fables of yore
Sarcous sacks that build in moles,
That a atoms of being, clouded in obscurity.
But you Bird cannot evade
A temperemental quiver;
Plan of arrow, naughty,
From the bow, boys and smooth egg-stone
From beach- testicles of rubber bands
Meet and mingle with your dizzy fall
Then your quaint cooing
I would hear no more.