Retying the entire floral encasing,
the bird lands where it started,
in its steel beak an olive branch
for all that is hostile to bird.
This city has no love for birds
that dip out of its glass encasing,
that disdain its golden branch,
that deny the egg where they started,
or deign, This is just where I started,
the egg that comes before the bird,
the necessary staging branch
for flight out of the wooden case. Sing,
sing against the city where one started
till the bird becomes the olive branch.