peewees aren't baby magpies

And again I say it

The things I know.

Don't think you can understand through the frosted pathways.

The iced-over lakeside is simply opaque;

Your judgement is futile and I wouldn't trust it,

Lest it breaks.

If only I could explain how much the icicles hide

You see beauty in snowflakes,

I see crying eyes.

In the eyes of the Peewee, you're all the same.

Unable to discern a thing called by a different name.

In one light the Piping Shrike, the Peewee as it's known

Is hiding from it's older cousins who will drive it far from home.

In similarities you'll find freckles of black and white.

But at the end of the day the Magpie wins in the endless fight for might.

~