a confederacy of birds

To a confederacy of birds,
planning for the future is absurd.
They know time won’t last.
and rarely even look to the past.

Prefering simply to stay unattached. Unhatched.

Not lost to the past, 
nor delving into the future.
The past just fades away,
the future holds very little sway.

Prefering simply to be where they breathed last. Their Last.

Together but solitary
aloft in the present,
soaring with a sigh,
lost to all sense of “Why?” 

Prefering simply to let that question slip by unharried. Uncarried.

To a confederacy of birds,
of owls and corvids and hawks,
balance is still the thing
when its time take to wing.

And that is the moment, dear flier, to sing.

to sing.

to sing.


Sky Full of Birds” by Richard Barrett