The birds ain't prejudiced.
The whippoorwill trills
As I walk the street
In the so-called black neighborhood.
The jay birds solo in the barrio,
And morning dove mate
On the damaged curb
In front of the section eight housing.
Robins peep "tweet, tweedely deet deet,"
As I go bee bopping by them,
And mocking birds mock
And try to talk about the white girl
That's just moved in.

But they can't,
Because they don't know what to say.
No one 's ever told them,
And they can't see color anyway.
No one 's simply black or white,
Just twelve hundred and fifty shades of gray,
The birds just wonder why none of us are singing.

-jenn