The state of my being
States that my one self,
is no more and no less than
I’m no fraction, nor a compound number.
I’ve eaten for two, but have not been two,
rather one plus one in symbiotic form.
A nest of sorts
the formation of another
I’m done with symbiotic being.
I only eat for one now.
Now I live in isolation,
As so many do.
An isolation shared.
Many ones, many severals, separate nests,
Neighborhoods of brick and wood nests.
Cities with high rise glass and steel nest complexes.
I am not caged, nor are you.
I remain nested
for the sake of the flock
Even when I want to fly.
This goes against all my avian instinct.
So I beat my wings at first light
and ask, is today the day?
I hold the edge of my too familiar nest
And I beat my wings.
Turn back inside
and rearrange the twigs and feathers.