Dawning Creations

Grackles cry out
their mechanical beeps
and robotic chirps

Glistening,
like an organic oil spill,
their colors, radiant and
ever-changing in the light of the sun

Who’s calling to me, now ?

All of these calls
sound so different from the next.
What is expected of me?
I ask you,
in the most polite manner
Can you come down from that tree?

You’re so close
but much too far

I want to capture your essence,
want to bathe in your
technicolor sun.

All of these calls sound so similar.
Yet, yours is so distinct.
I can pick you out,
though, in shadow,
you hide better than the rest

Can I climb to where you are ?
Can I shine
and expell a mutilcolored hue with you ?