Titular birds make small curd cheese,
money sounds, hush and funny.
Scratches itch cats, too large
for these tiny creatures,
a meow of a love
fighting like life
for a life before an ending.
Conversations mingle with
tree trunk creaks, squeaks and quakes,
feather cakes (see: owl) balled up
and called down to prove
that flight is not enough
to guarantee safe passage by air.
Call it out loud or this forested crowd
cannot be said to exist or resist,
in spite of the denial of meaning
by any beak that has tasted
the middle afternoon song.
Roman Ryan 