Awake at 2 a.m.-
The birds in my head are fluttering all around,
Some spreading their wings, ready to fly,
Others pecking the soil, hungry for worms-
That slither in the dewy green grass
As dewy as his Decimal System,
As green as the green witch-
Which, I believe, comes from a story-
From books that smell crisp and sweet-
Like a chewy bar of chocolate that melts
And drips as smoothly as rain
That goes away and comes again another day-
Ah another day yet to come, I need to stop.
I'll need to do this and that and that and this-
But the birds don't stop.