your funny birds

Your crows, their feet are all wet.
Silly crows, such a wizened bird should know much better.
Feeding on onions!
Onions?
I am the onion. (The most recent in a series of onions, I imagine.)
You chop me up, so I make you cry.
Stick with the seeds, dry and bland.
And, from the very stuff you've digested will grow trees,
And there you can build a nest at last,
And perched above it all (like "normal" birds),
Your feet will stay dry.
After all, a seed has a center, and a promise,
While an onion is nothing more than layers.

Well, anyway, your funny birds seem happy in their bath.
Pretty crows, pretty feet.