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Upon the shining shore they glide
With hollow wings spread open wide
No feather grown from flesh and bone
But circuit, wire, and microphone
They wheel and dip with practiced grace
A bureaucratic, borrowed face
Their glass-bead eyes record the scene
While servers hum somewhere unseen
The sun reflects on painted breast
No egg beneath, no downy nest
They cry a cry of processed sound
And scan the free souls on the ground
How bright the day
How blue the shore
How watchful those who seem to soar
The ordinary man looks up
"What lovely birds!"
and lifts his cup.
But I, who know the hollow thing
Salute them not, nor watch them sing
For flesh and blood I trust alone
Leave government to mind its own
@stupidbird
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Upon the shining shore they glide
With hollow wings spread open wide
No feather grown from flesh and bone
But circuit, wire, and microphone
They wheel and dip with practiced grace
A bureaucratic, borrowed face
Their glass-bead eyes record the scene
While servers hum somewhere unseen
The sun reflects on painted breast
No egg beneath, no downy nest
They cry a cry of processed sound
And scan the free souls on the ground
How bright the day
How blue the shore
How watchful those who seem to soar
The ordinary man looks up
"What lovely birds!"
and lifts his cup.
But I, who know the hollow thing
Salute them not, nor watch them sing
For flesh and blood I trust alone
Leave government to mind its own
@stupidbird
