A Magpie’s Solo
Sifting through trinkets of brass and yellow,
Rummages the Magpie through bits of metal.
One ring, it picks, dresses up well with more decorum
Than the Magpie has to offer in person.
He wanders about, picking wants over needs
And rejoices in the collection of marvelous shiny things!
No hesitancy is required for desire.
He stretches his claws to take and admire
The wonderous tidbits of fancy and wire.
A swift pluck pockets an illustrious coin
As his bosom fattens with envy to join
The remnants of greed mixed by mire
That coddles itself to placate desire.
He flies out, once again, to scope and compare.
His claws feel heavy with fantasy and ware—
This bird ends up sinking and going nowhere.
He is left with a choice to sink or swim,
Burdened by his effortless choices on a whim.
It is getting dark when he is ready.
The wares were dropped and he no longer feels heavy.
He continues home to reassess his pity
is a fourth-year student in the English B.A./English Education Ed.M. program (UB Teach). They would like to dedicate a portion of my biography to Dana Fang, a kind and thoughtful classmate to have who is currently working towards their Ph.D. in the English Department, for introducing me to the term “Neo Formalism.” In their free time, I enjoy looking at birds and sitting surrounded by nature.
A Caw to Arms
I, too, was like the Spotted Gecko,
Crawling with all my might
As I refrained from letting go
And losing all my sight.
The bare branches carved pathways
Emitting grains of sand
Funneling channels through the maze
Of the hourglass’ band.
As I recall the countless days
Of lounging in the Sun,
I feel a bird upon my shoulder glaze
Each and every-one.
“Little bird,” I chant in honor
To its very presence.
What a delightful martyr
Has come to visit with illuminance!
One caw, it calls—
Filling all the fun into my wiry lungs.
As it deposits countless journals
Of knowledge by the melody that it has sung.