poem

we wish

we could be like crickets.

we wish we could be as we are

without wanting what we have not.

take it or leave it, his song.

there are a million others.

you just can’t hear them so clear.

sing if you like,

it won’t help.

you can’t.

yesterday’s rain

hasn’t loosened your wings-

you weren’t meant to fly

you weren’t meant to sing.

a mallard is beautiful

a lion has a mane

a male cricket sings

songs said to bring blessings.

you weren’t made to sing.

wait.

and always be thankful.

(I wrote this for a class last year. My workshop group didn't understand it, which is fine. I didn't write it for them. I don't think we need to understand everything, poetry or otherwise.)