Jesus said the ravens never worry
but I think the cardinals do because
this chick looks concerned.
All these redbirds cruising spring drunk
peep-peeping her up there in the nightclub canopy
pulling their wings back, flipping their feathers.
She’s being choosy --
that’s what sixth grade taught me --
watching how far they can fly,
comparing their grasshoppers.
See there? She just said no again.
I wonder if she knows why.
They say birds have tiny brains,
ruled by outside forces:
chemistry, evolution, habit.
It’s a transaction, right?
Sex for genes for safety,
every selection a shot at reflection,
history deja vu.
Maybe she’s just looking for the hottest shade of red,
but it seems to me
she’s got immortality on her mind.
No comments:
Post a Comment