Little Bird

the little bird danced in the puddle,
a purposeful action unto only itself,
with a disregard to worldly burdens,
playfully kicked and chirped this treat

no opinion it possessed of the changing wind,
no churned emotion on the shifting scene,
no investment in the shattering fallout,
no commentary on political whims

just the action of a simple life
guided pure by reflexes of its life
and my own unabated wish to be
quite free enough to play, muddle, in the puddle, myself, me