The Songbird

A poem I wrote, partly in my car, partly in my room.

I sit in my car

I gaze out afar

Into the morning sun light I see

A songbird looking back at me

I wonder, what must he think

About what man must make

Is it a mistake?

Or just some cosmic flake?

He does not sing

Nor spread his wings

Only sits, looking at me

Author's Note

I do not write much poetry, so forgive any beginner mistakes. Comments and suggestions are welcomed.