Bird Bath

You bask in the sun as you crane to inspect
that bird in the water, demanding respect.

How odd that he has not one thing to say
and as you caw your challenge, doesn’t fly away.

When you bob your head at him, he bobs at you.
He’s an image of everything you choose to do.

Then, Mr. Raven, as you fly away,
So too does the other decide not to stay.

Just as you stage your sudden defection,
flying away with you is your reflection.