What Do Birds Think While Perching on an Electric Wire?

Do they ponder, mid-air, with a spark in their toes,

Why humans below rush wherever life goes?

Do they think these long lines are our version of trees,

A forest of metal that hums in the breeze?

Do they gossip of clouds or the weight of the rain,

Of wings that grew tired, of distant terrain?

Do they laugh at the cars with their grumbling sound,

Or the people with feet always stuck to the ground?

Does the robin recite her new sky-written prose,

While the sparrow debates how the northbound wind blows?

Does the crow quote a line from a tale never told,

Of a thunderstorm’s whisper, both eerie and bold?

Do they sit in a row like a feathered debate,

Arguing gently on timing and fate

“Should we fly now?” “Not yet.” “The sun isn’t low.”

“Let’s wait till it paints all the houses in gold.”

Perhaps they just rest, not a thought in their head,

Letting currents flow quiet beneath where they tread.

But I’d like to believe, as I glance toward the wire,

Each bird holds a dream, or a question, or fire.

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