What animals must think
They call us out before there is a sun
above the windows
and we wake to make our face,
wait in traffic,
on sidewalks, stairwells,
swiveling to watch them fly above,
across our sacred line,
laughing as they zag along,
cut into the tidy arc of day
to which we solemn pray.
We wonder as they scamper
cross the grass, into the rebel bush
we cut to fit the contour of our lawn,
their chatter in the background
as we go to feed the bird, the dog,
the cat inside the
careful, measured segments of our cage.
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