The chickadee is known by me as a bird who points out that what you do is absurd.

A lively chickadee sang outside my window, fast,
"Why do you sleep when the day still lasts?"
A little late and syrup-slow I answered sleepily,
"The world is too bright, too vast, too energetic for me."
Its head toward the ground the chickadee made a humming sound,
"No thing is too bright, too big, too fast for me too see around!"
I rolled over and growled;
"Everything outside these walls is to me pain-bound."
So the bird took flight
And from then through the night
I grew feathers
But, wings gone,
To fly I knew better
Than those who burst with song

The End

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