how simple
their lives are, these black birds.
wings glossed black,
the pointed beaks,
those
perfectly
round eyes, unblinking
at the future,
at the past.
how easy it is for them to
move on.
from tree to limb, from
wire to wire.
no care, no regrets, no
sorrow.
unlike us, they have wings,
carefree
as they glide
away,
no worry as to what's next.
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