Odd Bird Out

She was a volitorial bird by birth and right

In a flock of others, useless to flight

So on a wire she sat, in a spin

wondering when, if ever, she would begin…

to take leave,

to escape.

Fate, she thought, cruel on occasion,

though interesting at best.

Whispers buzzing back at the nest…

“She isn’t shiny. “

“She seems so tiny.”

“She’s always whiny.”

“Are you sure she’s one of us?”

The Magnificent Seven of Cowardly crows

Thinking themselves a Mystical crew of Seven Samurais

Squawked and talked in a circular symmetry.

Gossip in loops, disguised as reality…

Looking down on the odd bird out;

Her whisper turned to a shout.

“Leave me be, I’m best on my own.”

Wings in a flap, she was ruffled in tone.

“Silly beasts, base and vile,

now you’ve stolen my smile!”

And with a lift and push

she was off in a rush,

surprised that flying was so easy,

over the tops of the trees she flew…

to a home that was free, and breezy.

~Christine Wichman c. August 2013