The birds outside kept me alive
They arrived in groups of two,
bearing humble buildings blocks
They shone in winter sunlight,
a symbol of time marching on,
They perched just out of reach,
as I wilted in my springtime cage
They whistled their instructions,
rebuilding their solitary world without fear
of the unknown,
of the future.
Encased in my glass tower
I found the sunlight’s kiss
and dare I say,
Poem by Margaret Wilson
Margaret Wilson is a writer and editor from Pennsylvania. She currently writes for an organic farming nonprofit organization.