A Bird Is A Song

Colorado, can you hear me? Are you listening?
Do you even care? Are you even there?
The concrete canopy, mountains of symmetry;
The city policy, the city air. The boroughs I have
Seen seem so unfair, as do the feathers on the
Sidewalks I find there
I do not need to speak, but I want to listen to the
Tiniest of flights and their transmissions. The words
Tied to their wings are the words I’m going to sing
A noise, small and strong: A bird is a song
Torch the sails, and set ire to our deals: My heaven
Is here, my heaven is here. Who would need escape
Who would seek salvation from a place so bright
And clear?
I do not need to see, but I need a vision. I want
Seamless operation upon ignition. The fuel that I salt
Away will keep us through the darkest of days; will keep
Us well through winters long, and when springtime
Starts her broadcast, the birds are our song
Keep your feathers clean and dry