In Wait Of Ash And Worm

The birds that sing before the sun rises
are “tweeting” much more important “stuff”
than the social network freaks.

These flyers and ground-eaters know
the future (ours & theirs).

The melancholy sound of their song
does not bode well for a universe
about to implode or so I decode.

The winged creatures stop their
chatter as soon as the sun rises.

They go about their daily business
much like we do
I’m just a plump robin
in wait of ash and worm.