In D.C., in front of the Jefferson Building
While taking my snack,
I saw a small bird, much like
A fat maya, alone.
In the Philippines,
I mused to myself,
Mayas come in flocks,
Merrily.
Here they are fatter;
Still brown, after having
Earned some black,
But much less
Lithe than
Where they come from.
And they are
Called something else,
I'm sure.
And then they do not
Flock, as they do
In their native land.
In the succeeding days
I would see one more per day,
Still alone, flying unto
Gutters and eaves.
How I grieved for them,
Full as they were
With the abundance
Of a foreign land.
May 23, 1999
Nota Bene
This poem was included in the recently-published Literary Edition of Ateneo de Manila University's Philippine Studies journal.