The Porcelain Prophecy

I woke up in my ivory tower To greet the morning’s golden hour But on the glass, a strange design A messy, white, and curved outline. A question mark of grit and grey What is the bird trying to say? A cryptic sign upon the pane Is it a blessing or a stain? I checked the stars and ancient lore I’ve never seen this shape before A feathered prophet flew on by And left a riddle from the sky. Is it a warning? Is it a jest? A gift delivered from the nest? I stand and stare in silent doubt What is this life even about? A question mark of grit and grey What is the bird trying to say? A sign from nature, or just a mess? The universe leaves me to guess. Har de har har, the cherub sings High above on silent wings Just a splat against the glass Watching all the hours pass.