I wonder what the birds think
As they fly about
Food, water, predators?
Or maybe not much at all
Maybe they think of nests and trees
Or they think of the kind human
Who sprinkled some seeds by the bench
They may remember bad times too
When they were shoo’d away
Or when rocks were thrown at them
Or maybe they don’t think of much at all
And maybe we don’t have to think of much at all
Like the birds
As they fly about