The Beak

I’m not sure why his beak

captured that name, perhaps

because there is a chip in it.

Our flock is full of gossip

and I don’t like it -- all this talk,

talking against each other. We

are supposed to help each other --

like today. The sky is blue

and clouds seem good enough

to eat. I’m so hungry and hope

the rest of the starling flock

finds some food really soon.

There goes The Beak breaking

free from the flock, always

on his own flight path -- look

how he’s flipping his wing at us.

Now, I wonder what it means?