Sunflower Seeds

I’m the parrot, green and bright,
A writer bird with keen insight.
I perch above the office door,
And watch the writers on the floor.

Parrots are ones who love a tasty seed,
But some birds squawk with awful greed.
They hide their treats beneath the straw,
And guard them with a sharpened claw.

I’ve seen the same with writers too,
Who have their wealth and fame in view.
They count their eggs before they’re laid,
And spend with credit what isn’t made.

One fellow said, “I’ll soon be known.
My name shall sit on every throne.”
Another said, “Just you wait and see.
The world will soon applaud poor me.”

But after books and prizes came,
They still desired a bigger name.
Like parrots stuffing seeds away,
They always needed more each day.

I once buried a hundred seeds
Beneath my perch for future needs.
Then later, with a puzzled squawk,
I searched in vain around the block.

I scratched, pecked, and searched around,
But not one was anywhere to be found.
I squawked, “This hoarding is absurd.
I’ve been outsmarted by some bird.”

A gentle writer must have heard my cry.
She laughed as if she had wings to fly.
She shared her books and lent her pen,
And encouraged both women and men.

Another man gave his time away,
To teach young writers every day.
He cheered their victories with delight,
And slept with peace each peaceful night.

That’s when I saw a wondrous thing—
Their hearts began to dance and sing.
The tighter fists began to part,
And giving grew within the heart.

God can change a grasping claw
Into a wing that serves his Law.
He trades our greed for love so true,
And teaches us what joy can do.

Now when I watch the writers type,
I hear less bragging and not much hype.
They ask, “Who can my story bless?”
Strangely, they begin to stress less.

Some cheer a friend who’s won an award,
And find that joy becomes their reward.
They share their wisdom, hope, and light,
And enjoy a restful sleep every night.

So hear me now, and hear me well—
A parrot sage with tales to tell.
Don’t hoard your seeds with jealous sight.
They’re sweeter shared in God’s delight.

Books grow old and fame grows dim,
But loving others will honor him.
I’ve discovered, feather by feather,
That giving hearts fly best together.

Excuse me now. I must depart.
There’s kindness waiting to impart.
I just found one hidden seed—
That I can share with a bird in need.