There is here an ocean of air,
Bearing waves of argument,
Interpolated by a crew of birds.
The owl at night puts its one big question,
At daybreak, finch syntax, patient,
Reassures us all will ever be the same
If only certain simple rules are followed.
Crow doubt and criticism
Deconstructs this premise.
Blue jay objection and disorder
Dismisses all the suppositions.
And always garbled turkey explanations,
Absolutely conclusive, and totally illogical.
Make, dear birds,
Make us a great ship of air.
And sparrow with the golden crown,
Let your single piercing dying note
Pipe, pipe, pipe us all aboard.