The Muses of Poetry

The poetry muses
A vulture
A parrot
A robin

The robin sings of blissful things
Of love and little trifles
Dreams of maybe someday sorta
Almost tomorrow hopefully
Far away from here and now
Till tomorrow is gone
And now is all thats left
A head full of happiness

The parrot calls like no other bird
A scream, a cry, a coo
Shifting and changing
From monastic to chaotic
From salvation to damnation
From sultry summer to weathered winter
And back to quiet calm
But who knows what it shall be next?

The vulture croaks last
Like it always does
When it opens its beak
Emptiness pours out