PITH - The Falcon in the Window

The Falcon in the Window

The world, they say, it spins and turns....
And in my yard grow apples and ferns....
The sun, it warms, and sometimes burns....
And something deep within me yearns....

Sometimes, it's hard to remember why....
I work so hard it makes me cry....
To be the best, I try and try....
And only rarely do I look at the sky....

So many around me have wants and needs....
And seem to count on my words and deeds....
But this hunger within me grows and breeds....
And my unfulfilled heart just bleeds and bleeds....

My life, I know, is no worse than most....
And better than many, among this great host....
There's no reason to complain nor to boast....
It's just that I really can't stand to coast....

It's so important to always be doing....
Whether it's sleeping or eating or peeing or wooing....
There always seems to be some trouble brewing....
Though most of it comes from our misconstruing....

It's not as though I've something to say....
It's a nice night, after another nice day....
I've emerged, unkilled from the fray....
But something within me is going astray....

And so I take this time by myself....
To work some word magic, like a wry little elf....
If I had no computer, I'd reach for my shelf....
Or look in my wallet and count up my pelf....

But this thing is here, and I'm all alone....
So I chew on my words like a dog on a bone....
You'd expect something deeper from someone who is grown....
But I'm just me, throwing back what's been thrown....

I look at the world, and our little part....
And try to improve it with a small touch of art....
; It's not very classy, or jazzy, or smart....
But it's true, and it's real, and it comes from my heart....

So, one might ask, "What's it all about?"....
Why all these words? This pitiful shout?....
Am I full of sorrow, or madness, or doubt?....
Do I even know what it is I wish to get out?....

I'm torn and I'm struggling, and tossing within....
Though not from anger, nor errors or sin....
And breath are surely the wages of gin....
Does it even help to rhyme with a grin?....

Still, I approach it all with a smile....
For that, as we know, is the " style"....
And though I must walk still many a mile....
I do my best to live without guile....

And so I sat, here in my chair....
Awake, not really, but vaguely aware....
And glanced out the window, into the air....
And sharply at me, a gyrfalcon did stare....

Younger than me, though I'm not very old....
And braver, too, though I think I'm so bold....
The look that he gave me seemed wise but so cold....
As though he wondered if I'd do what I'm told....

Therein lies the trouble, I sure could have said....
For all that I'm told still runs in my head....
Whether foolish or smart, all the words that I've read....
Or heard through my life, still fill me with dread....

For how to appease, in just one time around....
All the advisers that I have found?....
With too many words, I think I've been drowned....
And too many don't match, and my ship's run aground....

So maybe eagleeye's right after all....
As well as the falcon, Hitler, St. Paul....
All we can do is heed our own call....
And live our own lives, and try not to fall....

I think it's important to find our own power....
But just for ourselves - not to make others cower....
Moment by moment, and hour by hour....
Shine in the sun, and wash in the shower....

For there is health and goodness in rain....
It can cleanse the soul, and ease the pain....
And help us to withstand the strain....
Of life, which comes again and again....

Too, it is good to lie in the sun....
And bask in its warmth, and trouble no one....
It's worth it to rest, and just have some fun....
And nibble upon a freshly-baked bun....

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The Falcon in the Window

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