How did this look to the birds?
I for one am certain the starlings who'd hovered over it did so en route to
a friendly neighboring tree,
saddened to see the stiff serge suit and and even a prince's thinning mane
try steady itself on the rails,
with a leg crumpled, finally, under another just like a fledgling's frail step.
Song sparrows know how chariots at the assault
and the strutting winds have stirred their wings before; how kindly wardens
of the state have slung weanlings on younger
shoulders before, in military grey, steadying them for a cruel and perilous sky.
And blackbirds, of course, who don't live only
for barren harvest fields prefer the swollen night stars. I'm pretty certain, too
the monotonously repeated fledgling's crumpled fall
will always be enough to make the watchful, looking down, laugh or cry.
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