Perching

He watches like a watchman

Roosting upon the arm of a tree

The one sightseeing the land

Contemplating at the scenery

With a hooked head and clasped feet

Just resting, not ready to drown in sleep

In stillness planning to eat

On the earth’s face, his eyes he wants to keep

He gets ready to take off

And upon the sea of air he will buoy

With grip never enough

For his hunger, whilst the sky he will toil