CYCLES Charles Albano c. 1998 ========================== Friday is our parakeet; He lives with us on Birdland Street. That pretty bird all green and white, Pruned out some feathers late last night. The feathers drifted to the floor, Where grandma swept them out the door. Then Fido spread them all around, And they wafted back without a sound. She found them all still lying there, And pulled out more of her gray hair. "I know I swept them!" she recalled, "By rights, that bird should now be bald!" ======== ========