Written by: Frederick Mungo

These big black birds, eagles and kinds
they fly westward all the time
to lands far far from home
with hopes to find better chicks for fill
but these hopes too have their own wings
so they fly as soon as they perch
to further lands beyond their reach.

So why the journey, why the flight?
Why the struggle on foreign lands?
all for nothing but a winged hope.
Can these fruits hanging down from homeland tress
not serve to keep you fill?
If it is flesh you must have
you the vultures, you the hawk.
You the kit, you the owl.
You these big black birds
that think of nothing but your fill,
come back home and search the fields
like the hens and chickens do.