Caged Bird

　　by Matthew J. Spireng

　　Some believe there's somewhere in the brain

　　that senses minor fluctuations in the Earth's

　　magnetic field and uses a sort of memory

　　of that to travel the same route year after year

　　over thousands of miles， over open ocean

　　on moonless， clouded nights， and a built-in clock

　　that， save for weather's influence， tells

　　when it's time to go. But they utter nothing

　　of thwarted dreams in birds' brains， how

　　a few cubic feet near the ground， however

　　well-kept and lighted， however large it seems

　　around a small bright bird， is like a fist

　　closed tight on feather and bone， how， certain times

　　of year， the bird's heart races as if to power flight.