outside my city window

two sparrows tussle and squabble noisily

trés intent on what they're about 

i smile at their avian aerobatics and antics

and wonder if these urban dwellers

have any sense of what their country cousins are about

if they miss pine boughs and open fields

but of course they cannot miss what they don't know

they are without feelings

they are reactive

flying on instinct alone

passionlessly

we assign them our passions

and call it dear

~~~

my feelings are as reactive

i have no more control over the flush i feel 

when you look at me

than these birds fluttering outside my window

have control over their next wing beat

as if they know what they are about

these bundles of feather and bone

sinew and muscle

chirping songs because they must

without heart or soul

as i chirp these word because i must

without heart or soul

or love or fear or care or desire

je suis l'oiseau , et l'oiseau est moi