Look at those little birds,
talking about their day,
in a language a lot can't understand,
words between the lines,
but they can't really listen,
because they're all talking at once.
And the telephone line that they sat upon
made me think about us,
suspended by a man-made media,
all talking at once, all trying to say something,
but no one hears, because we all talk at once,
and don't tend to listen.
Just something my mom said on the way home from school, and it had me thinking about that imagery
Through the Poet's eye,
the world is a Poem.
Sorry, I don't know who wrote that, but I like it