four feeble pairs of wings
flapping, beaks preening
                                           imaginary things.

mom bird looking old
pop bird real bold
their four offspring
                                are being told

"avoid the black birds
the biggest and the blackest"

they perch on the rooftop
near the gutter, cheeping
                                          loudly all a flutter

even in the bird world
the squeakiest young'un
                                         gets the greasiest grub

diving, landing, more
feeding on demanding,
mom and pop bird are
in charge, "beware of wings
                                               size, LARGE"

finding a wet garden bed,
beaking the broken ground till
tiny pebbles and tiny insects
                                                feed the hunger digest the rest.

Young wings no longer frail,
flight and landings
                               dive and lift, glide
and swoop, and land alight
                                              on the edge of a solo flight
until the three birdboys and one birdgirl
                                                        ­            find a mate, each

(And give mombird and popbird a wel-deserved rest)

                                                          ­                             oh and as for the three bad birds
                                                           ­                            in all black tuxedos, they were chased
                                                          ­                             and they raced away from six fast
                                                            ­                           fearless finches