grass bird

June 2, 2009
By Zack McCall BRONZE, Snow Shoe Lane, Nevada
Zack McCall BRONZE, Snow Shoe Lane, Nevada
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Grass Bird
Young, in a prime state
His feathers majestic and smooth,
His radiant orange belly made him known
Across the ever dying mountain,
He could not find his lunch,
Only dirt, brush, and a bullet

So he took to the exuberant spring sky
Far above the old and new rooftops
He flew into a trance,
Above the accusations above the fighting
So far above the racism and hate and the loneliness that masks
Only sad and confused.

He then abruptly halted and landed on
The getting green grass that I sat on,
I was holding bird seeds, looking up at
The never ending sea of sky,
When he bounced up to me,

When I saw him and smiled and said
“You can some don’t be afraid”
He looked at me,
The wet circles around his black bold eyes,
Told where his comes from,
He hesitated and then knowing I’m not going to hurt him
He took some seeds and chirp

We sat there the grass bird and me
Wondering we’ve made peace, but why,
Can’t the world.

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