If I could build a bird box in which we both could stay safe and sound without a care I’m sure we’d be okay inside our little bird box in the branches of a tree oh how blessed in our love-nest the two of us would be.
I like cats and I like dogs I dig hallucinogenic frogs I like sparrows and I like hawks I listen to parrots when they trash talk I like bugs what scamper by fish in ponds larks on high I dig the lambs and lions too lazy sharks and whales of blue I like gibbons’ funky struts and baboons with their painted butts I like bees that buzz about but people?
The day that William Shatner dies I won’t know what to do the grim reaper has to call on him just like for me and you but the universe won’t seem the same once he’s beamed away but I guess for now I’ll be just fine as he hasn’t died today.
The world will seem quite odd in fact something not quite right and I hope he’ll so boldly go into that last dark night this undiscovered country he’ll likely conquer too but still the day that Shatner dies I won’t know what to do.
I sit here racing raindrops down the window pane thoughtful that such moments will never come again you may think it’s wasting time to let it simply pass me by but it allowed this silly rhyme the time to justify
the fattest sparrows I have seen live in Central Park hedged among the evergreens from whence they disembark to feast upon the morsels spurned by diners on the go their taste buds now quite discerned to Subways and Quiznos. Tribes of chubby little braves wait next to rubbish bins attentive to the passing trade of what may be found within watching lovers promenade their bagels hand in hand and doughnuts do they serenade this full thick feathered band. Upper East Side dowagers are courted for the fayre the gilded stately benefactors out to take the air may stop and throw the sweetest crumbs thinking it such a lark to feed the sparrows with expanding tums that live in Central Park