No notice of the little man and his whistling

How like a tame little bird I've become
daintily choosing each crumb
you seem to leave behind
happily swallowing down
anything I find
while ignoring the better ones,
believing in my instinctual avian way
only what I see--
disgorging impulses and desires
gained over my short lifetime,
singing and dancing for your benefit,
content to eat what little
you forget to sweep up,
mercurial is your fashion.
Each piece smaller and harder to find,
I pretend that each moment is
a promise of a future one

How in your presence I've become
like a tame little bird
though in the end I will fly away
to peck at more substantial things
in dirt and hollow wood.