Bemused Beast

You’re an animal. You’re constrained
By animal sensoria,
Internal, external, all you

Can experience of living.
Then again, you have us, or words
Like us, in whatever language.

Thus you sit, at your interface
Of clouds, thrush songs, and news reports,
A cucumber taste in your mouth,

And your internal rehearsal
Of what you said to the other
Animals yesterday. Sing, muse.