Cockatoos

The yellow crests on a cockatoo’s head,
Like the sand on a beach but more.
The moon emits light on these birds,
The figures of the swooping pass by.

Camouflaged when winter arrives,
Gliding smoothly in the snowfall.
These creatures are angels,
Waiting for perfect prey.

Jabbing acute talons in mice,
Ruthless like anything; no mercy.
We cram them behind bars,
We are vicious; inhumane.
For our own entertainment,
Training them; what about theirs?
Surviving in challenging circumstances,
That are beyond us. We forbid freedom.

To discharge them, those snow angels,
Cage us and forfeit the key.
To eternally perpetuate them.
The yellow crests on a cockatoo’s head.