Albert in the Arbor

Encountering a singing bird,

was that a question which i heard?

Did he sing about or to me?

Why did he sing so tenderly?

Was that a whisper or a shout?

And, what is he talking about?

He makes me feel ignorant;

i want to know him but i can’t.

The art of conversation

requires more investigation.

It is the bird instead of me

whose talk is a mystery.

I suppose he only pretends,

but i believe that we are friends.

Walt Abbott–6-12-2010