Pretty Bird

Squawk and dance, feathers a flutter
meaningless responses to the nuances of approval
mirrored in your master's facial ticks.

Prance and skip safe in the false security
suggested by overly familiar, seemingly knowing smiles
and shared mirth...at other's expense;
for you ARE the Pretty Bird
and above such scrutiny...
for now

Ahh there Pretty Bird... petty, shallow, pretty bird
     prettier when you were free
         prettier still before you sold your song.

You sing everyday for "someday" independence or freedom, yes,
but you sing today and you will sing tomorrow
for seed... the crumbs.. the recognition.. that
"Yes, YOU are a pretty bird";
dependent upon another's attentions
equally ensnared by their intentions.

It does not matter that the gilded cage doors are open
the windows are closed,
     and in here
          nature has no home.

Just another bird
failing to realize its wings have been
clipped...
and that yes, we ALL know the lyrics to your song.