Matt Was Here

Bird on wing is a beautiful thing

Back-lit by colored sunset

Then light fades and darkness made

Fear sets as I start to fret

For gone is bird, and I haven’t heard

A peep from up above

So I ask: At night, where do birds take flight

Where goes that cooing dove

~

So as I rest my head, in my glorious bed

With pillows made of feather

I ask, with need, Do they succeed

Staying airborne in any weather

Or do they, like me, have a place to be

When night brings with it sleep

Do they have shelter, or rest helter-skelter

Do their homes require upkeep

~

I sailed the world, with sheets unfurled

And walked paths beneath the moon

And I found a swan, just floating along

As if midnight had turned to noon

The eagle roosts, I have deduced

High on mountain’s peak

And sea birds in sand, have dotted the land

At night looking much more meek

~

However, of the owl, I have seen at prowl

At all hours of the night

And so I reckon, after serious reflection

I have solved my initial plight

Like man dispersed; different, diverse

Birds spend their nights at ease

In water some stand, and some settle on land

But most flock to the trees