SPRING

WHEE! THE WINTER'S PAST,
WARM, BRIGHT SUN AT LAST.
WORDS FROM SOLOMON'S SONG
APT. "... FLOWERS APPEAR ON THE EARTH;
...TIME OF THE SINGING OF BIRDS IS COME."
TIME FOR MY ROLL IN THE GRASS.
TIME TO CONFIGURE MYSELF BELLY UP,
FLAIL MY LEGS, THEN BASK.
I DON'T ASK WHY I'M BLESSED
WITH A LIBERATED LIFESTYLE,
NOT PENT IN A MESHED PEN
LIKE MY BLACK, HAIRY NEIGHBOR
WHO BARKS INFERNALLY
FROM ANOTHER HUMAN'S PLACE.
IF I CHOOSE, I CAN WATCH
A BUSY, SPECKLED STARLING
BUILD A FORMAL NEST
IN A CAVITY OF A NEARBY TREE.
NO LIMITS TO WHAT I MAY SPY.
YET NOT A DAY GOES BY, I DON'T
WONDER ABOUT CRUELTY.