by Peter Dominic Christopher
I would sing for them, from the trees
As they would pass and sit below me
And they would try to respond with their tones
Odd sounds of moans. and other groans
Over time I have watched how they've grown
featherless with little fur, giants of our day
dangerous but towards me gentle, for I was not their prey
Occasionally I would flutter away in panic
As they shuffled up trees to pick
a ripe fruit to have with their picnic
They have always been strange ones to witness
But I sing for them
And while I sing I see how changes spring
the branches I sat on became less
As they created biggers nests
that were tree like at first but over time
hard like stone but with their unique design
And my branches became replaced by black lines
connected to leaf less trees
And I would sing for them
even though I would sometimes see
a parakeet forced to tweet
from its cage, and macaws the same
being taught to say a name
but they never came for me
instead they would recreate me on little whites
And sometimes I would see the bright recreations of my yellow chest and my brown wings in their nest
Along the side, it's almost as if they worship me I guess
So I sing for them
But they grew more stranger as things changed up
they used to pair with donkeys and horses bathe by the rivers, now they summon watercourses
But now I hardly see those horses anymore
instead there's a new animal with a strange roar
that moves unlike anything I've seen before
And their eyes now hardly visit the skies
they look down upon a new source of light
And I sing but I am overwhelmed by other sounds
the roar of their beast, and noises which drown out my tones
Odd sounds which calm down and I once again hear their moans
I occasionally here a little one's groan
As they point at me saying as I sing for them
Kiskadee.