Wild are the birds that reside in the canopies.
Moving in the most chaotic harmony,
Teasing the natural glow from between leaves,
Daring onlookers to observe their enticing routines.
The sun itself begs to catch a glimpse of their erratic activity.
The bountiful specimens maneuver in peace among themselves,
Undisturbed.
Ambiguous is the nature of these birds that makes them so desirable.
Within each of us fly the birds of our individual spirits,
Longing to reveal their obscure vibrance only to deserving eyes.
Their plain boldness speaks to their untapped wisdom,
With their rarity resting in infinite supply.
Indefinitely unreachable, yet continually pursued,
Eternal.
Unwelcome are spectators within their place of hiding.
With dexterity and poise unmatched,
The birds use the very features that make them so beautiful
To camouflage themselves into the foliage.
Few have had the privilege of viewing their timid confidence.
The intricate families hide gracefully from surveillance,
Discreet.
Fleeting is the charm that seldom presents itself to inquiring souls,
Leaving those who witness the phenomena at a loss.
Eternally sought after, though exceedingly elusive,
They remain dormant under the cover of the forest’s generous shelter
Until the moon’s translucent sheet of ambiance
Welcomes them back into the enigmatic source of their candor.
The Wildest Birds.`