Evolution

Sun rising
flinging green fire
on flashing leaves

as birds flit
and call to each other
ancient songs of
lust, warning,
hunger.

In twisting architecture
they rise,
sure-footed, fleet of wing,
fearless,

while below I stand,
neck craned,
stiff with gazing.

Back to my room,
I go - back to
my comfortable cave,
my simian
roots.

poem by Steven Federle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!