A Balcony Poem, Aug 2022

 Wouldn't it be nice
To fly like a bird
To soar through the trees
With the greatest of ease.
When the air is so still
And the sun shines his light,
I sit on my balcony
And watch birds in flight.

Their wings are so sure,
Wherever they go;
They climb to great heights
Or keep it down low.
They don't miss a beat,
No matter what comes their way.
They just flap a bit harder,
And call it a day.

If I could fly just like that,
I don't think I'd come down.
I'd stay in the air
And fly over the town.
I'd do flips in the current,
I'd coast in the breeze,
Then I'd poop on your windshield,
And hide in the trees.