I am going to be a bird

In my next life I’m going to be a bird.
Birds get to fly high in the sky
and they never go to the dentist.
We don’t clothe them nor the lilies of the field.

I haven’t really decided which to choose.
Canada geese are the best at migration,
Strong flyers and cooperative in flight.
But they’re loud and poop like dogs.

Turkey Vultures are my personal favorites.
They soar, riding on thermals,
With great wings and migrate from the south.
But they eat carrion and pee on their legs.

I saw a Kestrel one day near my house.
A small raptor, some call it a chicken hawk.
It hangs in the air and plummets.
But it is a small bird, don’t you think?

Egrets catch my eye and my camera,
A big white bird whose flight is angelic,
And the catch and eat fish, wow!
But their feathers are sought for hats.

We used to have killdeer around here
Before all the houses were built.
A lovely bird whose call says their name.
But they lay their eggs in the gravel road.

A songbird. I would like to be a songbird.
Like a meadowlark or mockingbird.
I could be a white crowned sparrow
Which lives all around here and at the beach.

That’s it. A song bird.
Can they sing at birth?
Would I have to learn
To sing my song?

Well, maybe I should stay human
And learn to fly.
But, what about the dentist?

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