Never Love a Starling

You mimicked perfectly

the calls of eagles,

sounding like freedom,

and love,

a patriot cut from the same cloth

that I came from,

shining in your glossy, iridescent,

black suit,

that shifted into purple and green hues,

of greed and jealousy,

Your long slender bill was only bright yellow,

when you were hunting,

for courtship,

but it faded to black,

when you got what you wanted,

as you went back to your flock,

always varying company

as much as you vary your vocality.

Shape-shifting with them,

painting pictures of everyone else's faults

but your own.

I flew on to fairer winds,

befriending whiskey jays,

stealing fries from the plates of crows,

and learned to laugh with them,

while you feasted on bugs,

and pecked others feathers,

in a war by yourself,

for tree branches that were not yours,

In a field that no man owns.

I hope you enjoy the crevices

of old woodpecker holes,

living in the ruins

of rotting trees,

that reflect all of your taking,

in good company with all the lies

of the parroted songs you pirated.

I never deserved

to cry under cherry blossoms.