Bird's Eye View

Finches sat upon telephone wires
Like tight rope walkers without a pole

If I tried my hand at their relaxation
I'd lose both balance and control

They chirp away their songs of warning
To coalesce their greatest fear

That I am near

Soon they will depart onto the next perch
Nomadic ventures to warmer climates
Flying toward their mirth in guidance

In seasons passed
Rewinded efforts
They'll migrate back
To reappear

To find once more
Upon their landing

That I am still right here