Our lives are not our own so much like two hundred years ago.
Instead we're watched and photographed as we travel to and fro.
Sometimes we're captured, tagged, and measured…..but luckily released.
Sometimes we're confined, on display, even at times when we're deceased.
Nothing's off limits about our lives for those who want to know.
Where we go in winter, how we build our homes, how we catch a beau.
True.....some of 'them' have provided some of us with shelter and some food.
But much of what they've done to our lives....... has been downright rude!
Tall structures and trucks and planes....kill us when we travel.
Drained wetlands, cut forests, and poisons cause....some of our lives to unravel.
We do get back at them a little bit, ....from time to time it's true.
We sometimes snatch a sandwich from them, or on their heads we poo.
We may wake them up at 4 a.m. with early morning chatter,
or dig holes in their wooden house siding.....while making quite a clatter.
We eat some of their fruit and grain; that is also true,
But what we'd really like to do to them is.......put them in a zoo! !
(April 2012)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
May no bird poo on Bri As he looks up to the sky! Especially an albatross With its enormous tuchas!