Birds

The dew is fresh on my easy skin. It evaporates out of respect for the living, peeling off and ascending into the world's welcoming arms. Outside the angry wind blows, challenging man's sturdy shelters. The selfish birds' chirp destroys solitude. Their lithe bodies are hardly built to last. Hopping on their easy feet, wings comfortably tucked at their slender sides, they are unaware of generational conflict, and they live their brilliant lives without shame.