As I watch a black bird
fly to the top of a tree
I can’t help but wonder:
can birds be afraid of heights?
If so, do they get teased,
given nicknames like “kiwi”
and always being hit with seeds
from other bird bullies in high up trees?
What’s real estate like for them?
Do they have to pass up penthouses
for not so bougie bungalows
in the marshes with frogs and mosquitoes
as their not-so-conventional neighbors?
Are family gatherings a nightmare
spent trying to hold it together
hundreds of feet on a small tree branch
as in-laws talk about their new pet flea?
And do they even want to overcome their fear,
or have they become content with their life
preferring to live outside of the nestbox
close to ground?
I mull through this and the bird squawks
as it soars away to its next stop
reminding me to quit overthinking
and walk home