Birds…not from Bodega Bay

A little black Cormorant sweeps into the water

And soars back up with quenched thirst?

I’ll never get to know.

 

The Pelicans and the Herons, so very many,

Far away they see a crowd.

Are they amused? Are they bored?

I’ll never get to ask.

 

Do they have a book to refer the categories of our kind?

How are we split? by colour, caste or creed?

by size or nativity?

I’ll never get to see.

 

And then there’s a Paddy bird,

Sitting brown and lone,

Without a chirp or tune.

What’s his story I wonder,

I’ll never get to hear.

 

It’s time to walk away today,

Only to come back soon.

To watch you all, perched away far

I’ll never say goodbye.

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