IF WORDS WERE BIRDS
by John T. Baker
If words were birds, I often dream,
I'd build an aviary
Where I would train them, then discard
My dog-eared dictionary.

I'd teach them how to soar and glide,
To fly in flock and hover,
To sweetly warble at my bid
And alien airs discover.

Then most would trill, the smallest hum
And others caw or twitter
In mutithroated harmony
Beguilingly aglitter.

For lyrics I would choose a lark
Or else a golden pheasant;
For ballads, elegies and odes
A nightingale more pleasant.

An oriole or quail could best
Elaborate a sonnet;
A thrush or mockingbird then place
The closing couplet on it.

The villanelle would need a finch,
Sestinas a canary,
For triolets, rondeaus, rondels
A bluejay necessary.

No ostriches I'd have on board
Nor other birds unable
To aviate when called upon
To formulate a fable.

With such an aerial array
Of arrows in my quiver
I then could write an "Iliad,"
"Inferno" or "Spoon River."

But words AREN'T birds, of course, instead
They're creatures quite contrary;
That's why my verses all turn out
So very ordinary.