Strange Bird

Weird Poetry

I have a missing patch of self-plucked feathers on my breast,

A chipped beak from pecking at all the wrong trees,

And the most discordant song in the entire forest.

I don’t fly straight,

And I crash into windows.

I’ve sat in concussed wonder at how blue the sky looks when it is reflected in the glass.

I always forget where my nest is,

And I migrate every fall separate from the flock

Because I can’t stand the sound of synchronized wingflapping.




***Moody…. Well, when I wrote it I was. Feeling pretty good now though….***

2 thoughts on “Strange Bird

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