I wrote this free-verse poem at 6 A.M. I guess the birds inspired me. It's about a death race for the insects and the birds' wanting of food:
A routine wake-up call;
An apprehensive death alarm.
The sky shifts into a metamorphosis;
From deep navy to a cloudy blue.
With each head turn, a brighter shade.
With each lyricless tune, a faster pace.
To escape.
To flee.
I refuse to believe light is faster than sound.
Silence fills the mind quicker.
Neck twist, eyes roll, beak up, steady perch.
Swoop, land, peck, kill.
Head to the ground.
Kill, devour, hop, listen, kill.
A stealthy murder on the lawn.
A crime scene no one investigates.
Murder weapon: mouth.
Tomorrow is only the beginning.
A routine wake-up call;
An apprehensive death alarm.
A routine wake-up call;
An apprehensive death alarm.
The sky shifts into a metamorphosis;
From deep navy to a cloudy blue.
With each head turn, a brighter shade.
With each lyricless tune, a faster pace.
To escape.
To flee.
I refuse to believe light is faster than sound.
Silence fills the mind quicker.
Neck twist, eyes roll, beak up, steady perch.
Swoop, land, peck, kill.
Head to the ground.
Kill, devour, hop, listen, kill.
A stealthy murder on the lawn.
A crime scene no one investigates.
Murder weapon: mouth.
Tomorrow is only the beginning.
A routine wake-up call;
An apprehensive death alarm.