At the Aviary
An eagle looks surprised to be here,
huddled in wings, a too-big overcoat.
Seven flamingoes pose in the snow
querying passersby with black beaks.
There is nothing else to note
until one shakes its ruddy rear end.
The sun is a little white ball in the sky
but it's bigger and older than you or than I.
If I were as big and as old as the sun
I wouldn't be worried about getting things done.
Yet because I am human, and awfully small
I spend my time worried about nothing at all.
If you have any comments on these poems, Dawn Corrigan would be
pleased to hear from you.