Four Penguins

I can see four penguins
Perched on a corner edge of downtown rooftop,
High, high, high,
Scraping a solo patch of bright blue sky
In a ceiling of white and grey.
I wonder if they’re cold up there
And why they stand so still,
And I question if they feel fear
Of the height or the roar of the plane jetting by.

Odd to me that they don’t move
Or set their hearts to wander
Or talk about the things that penguins like to ponder.
Westward facing,
Maybe they are waiting for that solitary blue patch
To catch the sun,
Warm them and set them free to fly.

Another jet plane pushes by.
Still they stand, frozen,
Nesting in air and concrete,
Reminding me of what I’m reaching for,
Giving me the courage not to try.

One Response to “Four Penguins”

  1. wcv Says:

    Good shit, man.

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