• Chris Rockwell

4/7 "songbirdsun"



The sun shines indiscriminately

You cannot abuse it’s radiance

No one of us could use more than they need

Leaving too little left for the rest of us

Every day, there will be enough

And although the celestial glow will eventually fade

By that time, our bones will become the oil that burns in lamps

And we will create new light

The birds may or may not understand this

They sing indiscriminately

Their song is for us all

I may not even agree with what they’re saying But I wouldn’t know

Such is the benefit of a language barrier

Between mourning doves and men

They likely don’t understand rap music

Many people don’t

The bass throbs through the body of a neighborhood

Trunks rattling, voices like machine guns

Shaking the parking lot lines

Leaving the neighbors peering through bent venetian blinds

Their amassed gazes out for blood

They don’t understand Chuck D

I don’t understand what they don’t understand

I could have been born a woodpecker

All of my noise would sound very different

But the neighbors would look at me the same

The sun soon sets on me

It’s nothing personal, I’m just getting older

My charm is losing luster

The golden hour is still magnificent

Its glow, twisting and dissolving between the clouds

An ostentatious light display without effort or intention

There will be another hundred and fifty million or so years of this No one could rush through that

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