Pecking cheeks upon slates and
Puffing chests to conjure mates,
Dropping and bathing without
Shame, feather’d features loud and
Wing’d Mother’s proud of intricate
Ways to feed the poet, the babe. Let
Decency reign in talons so righteous and
Triumphant in the woods upon high.
He thinks he is a bird, and the sky
Rejects him for his thought, for lack of pride.
He who scares the birds is I.
My shaky step is too demanding for
The angelic tree beasts. I must
Find my own way among the birds.
Charles B. Cross is a young contemporary writer out of the Southern Appalachian area in the US. He previously made his debut with a book of poetry titled If I Settle Down... The author is currently working on his second collection of short stories and poetry called Pedestrian.