Humans world is so small
When they are two feet tall.
Eyes pointing at the sky,
Not walking or able to fly.

Crawling, then walking a bit,
Always falling and throwing a fit.
Once taller and covered in plume,
More hued than from the womb.

Flocking together, not looking up.
Not sky gazing as when a pup.
Now riding in shiny nests.
Rolling as the gray path suggests.

Keeping their world so trife
As when they started life.
Worms have it worse, just a bit.
Tasty, though, I must admit.

I wonder if humans ever distain,
Me decorating their nest machine.
Flying anywhere I want to go,
And them not able to follow.

It seems they are in awe
As I weave and yaw
Filling their world with such desire,
As to be as me, a bird, a flier..