Bird

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.