Birdie on a perch

I'm a birdie on a perch. And from this venerable thrown, my panorama.

I know the decisions that you are making (and not making)

And the dreams that you forget as soon as you wake up.

I can see the bad hair days and how they shape your young face.

I know the way the river rolls down the mountain

But you are walking in a mile long shadow of the sun cresting on the mountain peak.

Where are you, anyway? Under a bush?

You'll find clear blue pools. Eventually.

But in the meantime, don't change your hair- at least not for me. And don't listen to me.

In the end, I'm just a birdie on a perch.