Toes in Grass

January 28, 2011
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I found a lonely bird (the bird was me)
And pondered why it chose to remain here
When for it, flight and sky mingled so near
Though it held knowledge I could seldom see
I thought it may be involuntary
Wrong was I, though still blind, bird made it clear
By opening eye’s lids, so weak and sheer
He sat me down beneath a wiser tree

I opened ears yet still I pondered why
The bird, which simply sat and looked around
Informed me of the wonders he had found
I saw, with toes in grass and head in sky
And was convinced of greener grass on ground
With smile on face, I bid my muse goodbye.

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