Sometimes I think
what should I write about?
Should I write about a bird
lying on the pavement
early morning,
with the same expression
it might have worn
while flying freely
in the sky,
now dropped dead
in the middle of the pavement
while I leave for work?
Or should I write about
a dropped penny
under the seat of a bus,
which nobody wants to pick up,
like the bird,
which no longer seems
worth anything
to anyone.
The bird had worth
when it looked beautiful
in the sky.
Maybe it has worth
for the cat
looking for prey.
Maybe it has worth
for reasons
we don’t understand.
We are too busy
to think about birds.
It won’t come on the news.
A bird died on the street.
Police are investigating the cause.
No.
That never happens.
Even humans
have become digits.
Do birds count?
And what about
the pence under the seat?
What if it were
a pound?
Does the scenario change,
or are we too busy
keeping ourselves occupied
to notice
that these two things
are asking us
the very same question
about worth?
NEPHART.COM 
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