Fowl
The fowl hang around the present atmosphere,
Coalescing like animals of the air and breath.
They commingle and seek pride, forging bonds
Of heavenly height, unobstructed by the view.
Adjacently they master themselves and their trajectory
To pullulate with the air and strive strenuously.
Their wings beat in link with the ocean and its current,
Whirling like storms of the unfathomable oceans,
Themselves are potency, poetical connivance,
Of absolute jeopardy.
The poultry shall vanish one day, to leave us with wings
And the supper of standing weight.
poem by Naveed Akram
Added by Poetry Lover
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