When I was little,
I used to think birds were robotic,
Mechanically geared
Jerky, swift and alert.
A bird's feet move without stopping,
Steps, jump, skips across the earth,
It's almost as if they can't stand the feel of turf.
Only the reward of mealworm,
Will tempt them to stray from the skies.
And once their hunger repletes;
Up like a lightning bolt they fly.