A free-falling bird even Poem by Daniel Faria

A free-falling bird even
When equal in size to the stone
That falls from the wall will never
Attain the same colouring as the moss
And all the less so in the month
When its feathers change

To have some idea think
Of how a man loses the age
Of when he searched out nests

Keep in mind: man falls down. The bird
Migrates so that the seasons won't change

It is by that rotation that the wall
Can be circled without anyone building it. The circle
Of that flight is the stone of age

To have some idea think
Of swallowing it