Me and the Phoebe - March 10, 2023

I think it’s comparable

that black-feathered phoebe

rock-perched and head-cocked

and me chair bound swivel-eyed

a flycatcher and I

both on the hunt

for the motion of a morsel

in the waters of our worlds

its wings are my mind

its beak my pen

it catches a gnat

I a wiggling idea

it can follow the swallow

with a quick chirp

while I must chew

masticate well

a poem needs time

and enzymes

to break it into pieces

before consumption

then a bit more time

before spitting it back out

to feed the world