The Tunnel Vision

The pretty bird, with lovely feathers,
perches obediently in the cage.

The cage door opens.
Out the bird flies,
in the same route, always.
Search for its food,
in the same area, always.

The bird, pretty though it is,
can't see beyond,
its vision as tunnelled as tunnel would be.
Its vision only of the tree bark in front,
missing the tree and the forest,
missing the beautiful clouds above, and
the opportunities beyond.

The bird, with its tunnel vision.

A Forgotten Date

A decade,
a decade of heart and sweat.
Of pathfinding, with some risk-taking.

Slowly, gradually,
building up a community,
though one in flux and change,
as people come and go.

Still at its core,
a pillar of stalwarts and faithful,
keeping the centre united.

A decade,
Old yet young,
at a mere ten years old.

The little ten-year-old,
no birthday cake,
no birthday wishes,
remembered only by a few.