I promised more about the birds
their long noted foreign language
appeals to me.
The day will be over soon
and there is nothing I can do.
I want to bring the sun
over my shoulder,
a lasso around her so she can’t set so low below the horizon.
Not for long–
(after all it must rise for someone else).
Just for an hour,
Just give me an extra hour
with Daylight
Allow me to bring the cattle in.
And steer home the very last goat.
The birds rest on the cattle,
far way they sing like clocks
reminding me that my cows
are merely schedules
and my goats are piled documents
awaiting the shredder.
But the birds are real.

They don’t represent unfinished
to do lists or
hours of unread email.
They aren’t the training
manual, updates scribbled
in the margins.
Nor people with
different needs starting on the same day.

They’re birds.