Oh, how I love their call to me (Bird Ballad Fallacy)
By Walter Burns
A bird was born to take its flight Against the Wind to weave A nut, a corn, a bit of seed If none then he will leave My soul is pecked by speckled beak And bathed by now a lark Who sings a song of mischief-love? That finds me in the dark Now sightless eyes, I still can hear The Wind blows whispered words You sing a song to fill my heart As trees fill up with birds --- A seed is sown-yes, buried there No, Order doesn't mind For things might mean just what they say If poetry is blind No tracks upon my soul you see I check it every morn The person in the mirror's me No bird was ever born The lark still stirs within my breast The birds up in the tree Just want to exorcise my lust In potent fallacy Written February 9th, 2002 © on Feb 09 2002 01:54 PM PST 0 • 10
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"A bird was born to take its flight ..."