The morning's breeze woke me
along with chords of early-birds,
all of which
are fools like me.
They sing “You're imperfect
and will always be.
You're caught in houses
of barbed-wire trees
from which you're falling
and hanging yourself.
The future is now
unless we die,
and if we die
at least we tried.”
Even fools can be great.
It's a ship of fools?
A carpe diem rejoinder! I think the major difference is that birds are hunter gatherers. There pent-up energy is spent on subsistence (building nests, gathering food). Yet, this poem can work on a surreal plane. The Bible admonishes us to watch the birds, and other small creatures. They have no thought about tommorow. They do not worry about what they cannot control. I enjoyed your poem!
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