birds on a wire.

birds on a wire. birds on a wire. birds on a wire.
in a row.
a string of them.

I wonder if the pigeons know how sweet
their coos sound
to a man locked up,
who last tasted freedom an eternity ago.
long live those birds.

they sing their song
Expressing their vitality
another day survived
looking for a mate, to survive this hardness of life
to propagate, to dine together
Strength in numbers.

It isn’t about a song,
it’s about survival
and you either get with it, celebrate it
or you ignore it and perish.
it’s your choice.

One day, those birds won’t sing no more,
Cause some cat came along and snuffed it out,
or they were baited with poison,
hit by a car
declared a pest and shot
burned
hit by lightning
starved to death
whatever

Am I the only one here, that took the time to appreciate the sounds they made?

Nobody else?
Anybody?

Hello?