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In Arrogance This World We Think We Made

Dark wings fell from the snowy mountain ledge
Down the hill into the porcupine hedge
Lying there whimpering in last flutter
Like morning's burnt toast absent its butter.

O' but the red jam is so truly sweet
The high mountain glows with its icy sheet
There the last ghost bird stands without its wings
Morn's breath dances forth and so proudly sings.

Mother Nature casts a condemning eye
Soon fall splashing tears from a wailing sky 
The bird changes into a human form
Life declares- yes this is another norm.

O' but mortals such can never believe
We live in a world born to deceive
Here fantasy is a fool's great parade
In arrogance this world we think we made.

Dark wings fell from the snowy mountain ledge
Down the hill into the porcupine hedge
Lying there whimpering in last flutter
Like morning's burnt toast absent its butter.

O' but the red jam is so truly sweet
The high mountain glows with its icy sheet
There the last ghost bird stands without its wings
Morn's breath dances forth and so proudly sings.

R.J. Lindley, Nov. 15th, 1977
Rhyme, ( Through the dark, a dim look taken )

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