Friday, December 30, 2005


Bird from atop his peaceful perch
Surveys all his nimble eye sees:
Satisfied though he does not sow.

Man limited by thought only,
With machines sees clearly every day
Wants though he reaps and sets up store.

Tree on which bird is perched
Points branches toward the sky
Grows roots down into the earth
and drinks its fill

By Fitzgerald
Used here with the permission of the poet.
All rights reserved

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