The Great Escape
The escaped parrots gather
in our Black Olive tree,
grown old,
feathers molting,
too tired now to fly further south.
They squawk about pollycrackers
and sometimes utter
obscenities to the rising sun.
They hiss at my dog,
jump one branch higher, days
I venture too close to their tree.
I wonder if they archytype dreams
about steamy jungles,
roaring tigers
and chest-thumping gorillas
running free below them
before two-legged predators
grabbed their land,
or do they dream in people talk,
still have memories
of small faces pressed
in wonder at this caged
green and gold finery
chained to its perch.
Pris Campbell
©2006
Art:
Parrots in Blue by Walasse Ting
found at Art.com
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