Lady, you were not meant to be the bird’s breakfast
Elegy at the Bird Bath
Lady, who told you you could swim?
You were meant to fly;
Not to float upon your own reflection
Waiting for a clever robin,
Or a hungry, ill-tempered jay
To pluck you from the placid pool –
Cool on a bright, June morning –
To pick you, all blushing red
For their breakfast appetizer.