Bird on a Wire

I woke up at 4:35am. Nature called. More than that, the words called. I went back to bed, warm and cozy. But the words wouldn't stop. I had to see where they'd take me - and write them down.They started with birds on a wire. Where does that come from in the wee hours of the morning? Rested, but not yet fully awake, this is where a writer's mind goes. Writers are strange birds.After dragging myself out of bed to write, it became clear this poem was not about birds plural, but a single bird - a...