Birds fall from the window ledge above mine
Then they flap their wings at the last second
I said, birds fall from the window ledge above mine
Then they flap their wings at the last second
But unless I get up
Walk across the room
And peer down below
I don't see their last-second curves
Toward a horizontal flight
All these birds just falling from the ledge like stones
Now due to a construct in my mind
That makes their falling and their flight
Symbolic of my entire existence
It becomes important for me
To get up and see
Their last-second curves toward flight
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