Ricochet (Poetry)

My silent bird flits keen from here to there —
mind bouncing off impossible high walls
feathered thoughts fly random — plunging blind
bamboozled by such barriers they find
distressing each winged missile as it falls
stunned into the wild grass — its lapse unseen.

I rest in humdrum debris for a while
editing and preening a bruised shell
then try again — the target always moves
to some degree a little to the strange
domestic chores impede — deflect my aim
perception shifts and so I miss again.

That bullseye’s quick — eludes each swinging shot
I am distracted every time I fire
it seems I’m doomed to never hit the spot —
dumb words rebound like rubber — need more weight
to travel true — a line drawn straight so they
won’t skitter wide and simply ricochet.