Welcome to my word Peter.

Welcome to my word Peter.

Really.

Birds cry

Without tears

How do we measure

Their sadness

Other than from a melancholic

Song

You can hear it

Whistle to a stranger

Trying to be friends

It is lonely

The only bird on a wire

In the moonlight

When the wolf howls

In the distance

Lost in the wilderness

There is a connection

They must know

What it means to be alone

Dragged back from the edge

By their coat tails

Do Hyenas really

Laugh at their own jokes

Do they deliver a punchline

On the back of a scooter

In a pannier

With pizza and garlic bread

Is it true that

A drop of blood

Will turn a rose bush red

Prick up your ears

Listen to the stillness

In a storm

It is a momentary absence

Of presence

When everything is alone

With its potential

Put me in a box

With a toxin

And a cat in a hat

Am I alive or dead

Or something in between

How will you know

Until the lid is lifted

I am both and

Is that what it means to be

Or not to be

The only lonely bird

On a branch in a

Singing tree.