Spoilsport’s sonnet on songbirds…
The sparrow deigns to tell me talk is cheep,
but bird language is different from mine.
Unlike that birdbrain perched upon his vine,
the best of human discourse is quite deep.
Birdsong with all its trills cannot quite keep
the depth of meaning toddlers can command.
The rhymes and songs children shout on demand
reach far higher than avian minds can leap.
Why is it then, I often feel absurd
when hearing birds sing after I write verse?
I’ll search for hours to find the right word;
right off birds sing their meaning unrehearsed.
Though I cannot translate, my soul’s stirred
by music I now bless, after I’ve cursed.
~ Wry Welwood
late 20th century