Cat's out of the bag, as they say: It
seems Magpie's made a fine mess
trying to help someone in distress.
Feeling rather bullied and betrayed,
a fellow poet was hurt, irked, afraid!
Magpie explained it was only a game.
Wanting to comfort, hoping to protect,
Bird told how she too had worn the same shoe,
running mazes in this meta-mind pro*ject:
Nothing but small fry, wallflowers,
really, nought but chippy little cheeps
to you Giants, we don't quite matter,
as day in and day out, forbearing,
you put up with our ceaseless chatter.
Yet in the great scheme of things,
each of us has unique gifts to bring.
Heart and soul we willingly share,
with new perspectives so particular,
and, in an act of trust, place gifts, there,
under the harsh light of Giants' stare,
begging we be permitted to sing.
Magpie, regrettably, was unable to contain
this raw outburst of pain, and the agitated poet,
with sweeping gesture, let everyone know it.
Being a bird, Magpie's unable to herd
said cat back in its sack, and the mess,
well, it's spreading, for in it we're treading.
For pity's sake, help us clean up this act...