They move in flocks.
Like geese or like chickens.
Clucking to themselves,
Cackling with laughter.
Their heels scratching across the pavement.
They preen as they go.
Pecking and smoothing,
Everything in place.
They strut through the world
Flaunting their many-colored feathers.
I sit well apart,
Aloof from the flocks.
Not another kind,
Just a different sort,
Mocking them behind my poetry.
Sophia, I like this. An observational piece, on the outside looking in. Well presented.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hmmm a bird, bird watching, with eagle eyes, enjoyed it, thank you, love, David