Glossy black bird,
time shifts, and so must you.
Too heavy for that switch turned perch
why you make it bob on the air, and
the heart-shaped leaves sweep forward
and back, like book leaves made to spread
a million mots doux.
Found vicious on the ground & vicious in the air,
your beauty translates for some as fear; but
a place of prominence this morning means
the sun sees its handiwork in a gallery
lush and green one season after its birth.
Up, black bird! Set to shine on the highest plane,
and from there observe who — squawk —
could love you more than the creator?
the paradise seeker?
the poet warrior?
