Bird Dreams

BIRD DREAMS The worst nightmare would be if I Was an ostrich, and (of course) couldn’t fly. The fly-guys sit around chugging bird-beer Boasting of chicks they’ve held dear - And tales of diving and soaring - But my earthbound tail is boring. They exclude me because I’m absurd - I’m not a real bird. . . . not a bird’s bird. But if there was reincarnation later, I’d want to be a penguin, a wearer Of a smart suit like a posh waiter, With a kick-ass name like Emperor. Surely all would find the idea bold: A story for other birds to be retold. Yes, my bird-cred card would be gold, Enjoying the Antarctic cold. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .