I'm in the rugged country of the SHRIEK.
For eons these fierce folk have fought
Humanity; now and then at whim they even eat
Us. Not that we're tasty--they dig in
To punish the rude (whether plume or skin).
"To curb the obnoxious" they say, "just treat 'em as
Mere food."
SHRIEKS are like our myth of gryphons--a blend
Of lion and hawk. All feathered pride and prowl.
And howl! Their tongue to me's a stopless pour
Of scream, of raptor rage. Can't parse
One word.
But our two human guides are excellent at bird
Lingo, slinging SHRIEK as sleek as lions, though
Sadly wingless. Virgils leading us afoot below
Dark wood.
We're here to help a man adopt two SHRIEK
Fledglings. And they're glad to go! They know
The music-world is wide: wing-room to grow
In ways deplored in SHRIEK. Plus, they've long
Felt fury for their narrow guardians. Their song,
Their training stunted. The musical twins propose
To ritually burn all things bestowed by those
stifling foster-parents; a public stink and sting,
"To blow" the siblings say "all wind from out
Their wing."
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One of our guides insinuates in SHRIEK
"Your new dad's clever; he recommends
You pack your musical instruments to sell
To human collectors instead. It will defame
Your neglecters even more; for buyers will
Gladly mock such unworthy SHRIEKs; they'll
Play human music on them, just to gall
Traditionals! Yon pair will catch the blame.
O shame!"
She wisely tries persuading cubs in terms
Of SHRIEK revenge; and yet she knows
Their adoptive father has private cause to save
Their instruments--they're no mere things,
But music-muses, and his angry gryphonlings
Are guardians too, to cubs of wood and wire.
To lay a spiral lyre on pyre is murder. Has
A soul.
But too, he needs the cash! SHRIEK cubs are hell
To feed--need pounds of red meat. He must sell
Their rare SHRIEK curios, buy guitar, piano, horn
For cubs to learn. Funds are no SHRIEK concern,
But here below, cash-flow trumps honor. Though
Be fair! The cash will go to grow cub-pinions,
Don't forget. Dad'll nurse their music-talent yet!
But then I wake, to find I'm lost again among
Bland humanity; my proud singing cubs
Are gone.
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