The Bird

The bird walked along
not looking
stepping on dead worms
Beautiful and dark and
covered in old seashells

The bird sang quickly
The bird sang to each day
Without response
Without necessity
Each day had its love

The bird never learned to still
The bird sang and walked
All the other animals
would listen to the song of the day
smiling in another direction

The other animals knew
it would never stop walking
Even the dead worms
knew its weight would pass
And they smiled

The bird walked and flew
Its secrets, untranslated
Each day had its lover,
a song to describe each breath
The bird walked along