I have a sun conure.
He likes to squawk and squawk when I come home.
From the window he watches the wildlife fly past,
badly yearning to fly outside,
to soar over the majestic Onkaparinga River,
looking for worms to eat,
flying over the wavy grass,
perching on a massive tree, pondering about his freedom.
Night falls, time to nap and dream about flying outside again.