if a bird watched us in the woods,
our towers would scrape the sky like blades of grass,
our suburbs planted like moss in like dirt.
all our tarnished monuments would stand like jagged stone,
and our roads fall between like dried pine.
our planes and cars zoom like flies and ants, pushing forward,
perhaps yearning for a power like the static against a squirrel’s fur,
or perhaps dreaming of a glimpse above the shade.
but he is a bird.
he does not care.
our thoughts do not change the warmth of his nest,
our feelings do not move the wind in the air.
his hunger is what decides when he eats,
our flavor is what decides how much he eats.
if we die out, he will watch somewhere else.
if we fight back, he will simply fly away.
the bird watches us wretched creatures of the woods,
dreaming of flying past the clouds in the sky.
~7/2026
odyssey entry 17
foreign face 3
v1