i'm trying to hard

The same sun sets on all of us
The singing birds
The boisterous rich
And the muted poor
The same winter wind chills
Through our feathers and our coats
Cuts and interrupts
Our wings and our bones-

The birds around my house
Sing through the snow fall.
Same as the summer rain
And
Fog riddled Autumn eves.

Same trees
Bigger nests and smaller nests
Shade and leaves then open,
Frigid air

And I wonder if these
winter songs would
Be sung
In a closed cage in a warm house,
Where the seasons are just scenery
From a window at a calm 22 degrees
Without any struggle, without any fight
Without any
Victory

comfort is different for all of us
i realize that atleast
Some strive for cages and warmth
as others strive
For windy nests in empty trees.
lusting after routine
or a new wind to seduce their wings.


I thought of this all while pulling my car into the garage.
Then I carried in the groceries
turned up the heat a bit
put the television on,
Ate a cheese sandwich.
looked at my wife as she closed
the door behind me


and realized

they wouldn't
sing a
note