Like an eagle in butcher’s corners Some have embraced it like sands They are the chicks of hen mothers Protected from the hard craws of hard beaked birds Though all in the spherical are Most from milk teeth are thy denied. Hovering from every tom & harie Looking like a raining season vulture That petched on dry wood. With feathers like an avian infulexa bird. Aching of heart at moon time is thy mood. With oceans flowing through their lids. To be loved thy are privilege Enjoy by the class of privilege.