Poem Series: George: Memories of George

Hearing you flutter in your cage,
taking off the sheet,
and opening the door in the morning.

Bouncing about,
and flying to the bars.

Pecking at a finger,
as your water and food were changed.

Jumping on the door,
as it swung open.

Climbing up and down the bars.

Flying about,
to the window sill,
to the bookshelf,
to the shoulder.

Landing on people’s heads.

Tweeting,
and tweeting.

Flying back to your cage.

Peeling seeds,
pecking at the minerals.

Singing out,
when you heard noise.

Laying eggs.

Brooding over the eggs.

Flying from person to person.

Eating bread.

The daily tending of your cage.

The weekly tending of your cage.

Uncovering your cage in the morning.

Covering your cage at night.

Poem Series: George: George was a good bird

George was a good bird.

She used to fly to people’s heads,
and fly from one person to another.

She used to play with toys,
and make a bell ring.

She used to eat bread,
and fruit she was fed.

She used to fly about the house,
and land above the bookshelf.

She used tweet so much,
and just kept going and going.

She used to peck at hands,
if a person played with her.

She used to like her cage,
and felt safe there.

George was a good bird.

Poem Series: George

In commemoration of the life of George the parakeet, there will be a poem series in her honor.  It will start today and continue for a total of ten posts.  Please think of George.

Here is the first poem

last night,
it just felt so odd,
the cage door had to be closed,
the cage had to be covered,
just like every night,
even though,
there really wasn’t a reason,
it just felt so odd,
not to have done it