Birds

I've seen one thing while perusing past work.

There's a creature that drove the writers beserk.

It's a reoccuring thing.

What's more, it had the weights of the world on its wings.

The birds that these men expounded on.

Imbued to us beyond a shadow of a doubt.

They might fold about or coast around.

Light as a quill or weighty as a pound.

Yet, they each have their place.

Filling the page with style and effortlessness.

These birds that vacillate overhead.

Taking the peruser so damn high.

These men were certain more than brilliant.

Making a typical animal a thing of beauty.

Depicted exhaustively from claw to bill.

Every one's picture is made extraordinary.

The birds settling to them.

With such interests to find.

Whether a fixation or a side trip.

Those fowls were made to torment.

We recall them for what they've done.

Their sillouettes getting across the sun.

Or on the other hand inside the stars of the evening.

Those men were the birds taking off.