A Cromwell.
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From a Gatekeeper, UncertaintyCrossingUncertaintyCrossing.

The cromwell proves amazingly for flying information across the worlds, for they can navigate Ways, the Library, and most notably, any otherworldly combination of deadly smogs, wind turbines, and trees. The poems below have been collected by Page Tamto in honor of the 100th Library-sponsored cromwell migration, in which the Library and its patrons encouraged the flocks and reduced obstructions and/or distractions in their path. Aside from that, cromwells often take up the role of book-finder when they rest in the Library, during which a patron may attempt to approach them for directions on finding a document or section of the Library. Tamto says to enjoy!


The CrommWelle, by Aphelia Carton

'Twas once a fast squirrel that would've matched thee,
Or 'twere a quick pigeon which mastered the trees—
But none of above could hope to compare
To the mighty cromwell once launched in the air !

Wayward explorers and grandma's alike
Have certainly asked to the Desk at some time
For maybe a kiwi, or a phoenix *en route*,
But 'twas the scaled bird that bore the best fruit—

Whether it were a package, or a locked-in-cage ghost
Or even a speaker1, or a colored French loaf,
No fowl of kind could hope to defeat,
The kind of spark wings that flew out of reach.

And even to now, to the electricity days,
To the noon's and evening's where the Rounderpede strays,
None can dent the sharp beak or the smart power plays,
Of a swarm of cromwells that wants to go that Way.


Cromwells search, not send, by DORIAN

Have you ever hid in a shelf?
A shelf,
One too quiet for a hawk,
Or too large for a goose,
Or too smart for a crow—

But there's never a Library shelf
Too hard-to-find
Too mysteriously ominous
Too obstructive, no matter how tall the shelves look—
Never any of that, for a cromwell.

Once, in a trip to myself,
I slowly fixated my eyes away from the wooden casing
To the metallic bird next to me
Whose bloody scent swept away my tears and the shelf-musk,
Whose shiny gaze both pierced my self-contempt and my hiding place,
Whose brown casing blended both my wariness and with the shelves.

I wondered, if
The soaring complexity was on a quest for my heart
For a friend, or maybe an enemy…
But there was no message attached to her or him
No parcel laced.
No strings attached.
She or he had searched for me
And I didn't want to counter that.

So I stayed silent as it searched my soul, waiting
Leaving something that no one would have sent.


Small Rap for the Big Help Bird, by Ostric-ized

Checklist
Breakfast
"Bro I gotta text this"
That's all humans do when they wake up to start ventin'

Ain't having bird issues like soaring through a nexus
Don't care 'bout trees or smoky sky wreckage—
And patrons don't praise, they only ask questions!

When we gonna acknowledge what scholars,
bird ballers, shelf fawners, and help callers
Refer to in our Library as our best book trawler
For rude aisle walkers and close to no dollars?

You won't find nothing better than instantly blessèd
And so we should consider to confess it:
Arrested, caressed it, weren't your hearts so invested
When we invited in a bird that we so relentlessly tested—
And so just provide some air space and leave the bird space for restin'.

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