The caged bird seems content after a feast not hunted for. Its space is denied but does it dwell on freedom in the early hours? But surely we suppress Nature yet are like the caged bird, too: commuters trapped in vehicles, daily routine with invisible bars.
We muse on the wonder of tropical islands where the caged bird’s ancestors flew, but if we had too much time for reflection instead of scurrying like the ants, would we go mad like King Lear without greed, petty woes.
With freedom we can reside in Hades, yet some smile … from a bleak prison cell.