Magpies
Grandpa took his gun
Out to the field
And I watched as he aimed at the birds
And I asked my father "why?"
And he said "They peck the peaches, they raze the raspberries, they plunder the plums"
And I think, where I a magpie
Instead of a girl with her pockets
Full of bugs and dirt and smooth, shiny rocks,
I'd crave that sweet fruit
And how shocking would it be to taste
The metal that breaks my beak
And shatters my skull
Do they know what they risk when they perch on the branches,
Do they see my grandfather aim the barrel at them?
Would they come back if they knew?
I think; I would, where I a magpie instead of a girl
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