We are poems ourselves
conceived from emotion.
We are all born poets
yowling or uttering
our brutal stages of advance.
Dazed from the drop
we find our voice, or not;
From there, images flock
like birds of Assisi
or flail as spoiled pigeons would.
camus,
ah, we are so diverse
like the consonants and vowels
that make our verse.
I like all d them birds in your poem, even the scavenger, cranky, downtrodden ones from the public commons.
Peter
"Eight miles high and when you touch down, you'll find that it's stranger than known..." Roger McGuinn, Gene Clark, David Crosby
Les