a cage is a cage not a home

'a cage is a cage, not a home'

he bought the bird, a silly little thing

that ground pellet and seed in its beak,

shook plumes of down into his nose but

that was okay because he figured it was

a bird thing to do.  he listened to the

bird squawk as he would walk pass its

cage, feel it fluff up against his neck as it

sat upon his shoulder, watched as it shit

on his desk but that was okay because he

figured it was a bird thing to do.  when

he moved the bird beside a window he

realized its home was nothing more than a

cage lined with white unyielding bars.  he

watched the bird spread its wings, pace its

perch, long for the backyard.  the bird would

be eaten by a hawk, of course, but freedom

would not die, not then, not at all.  so he took

the bird tenderly into hand, opened the window

and both jumped to grace.  but that was okay because 

it was the best chance they had. 

#barflypoet

#josephapinto

www.josephpinto.com 

© Copyright Joseph A. Pinto. All Rights Reserved.

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Poetry served to you raw and unedited from the moment crafted;

all poetry is older work and chosen at random unless otherwise noted.

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