{The Bird}

I walk the dirt path,
my toes gripping the rocks under
foot, and I kneel.
My knees almost touching
the ground, I see a small bird,
hidden in the bush.
She watches me, her eyes
minute and twinkling.
Her beak, electric blue.
Her feet, small, delicately
pinch the leaf on which
she is resting.
I grin.
She flutters to another leaf;
the one she left
shudders slightly, as if
missing her presence.

I wonder, my little friend,
what is my purpose
in comparison to yours?
What are my feet, big
and clumsy, next to yours.
My face, more
demanding of attention.
My chest, of so few colors.

The bird hops out of the bush,
to the ground, lifts her wings,
flies away.
I stand up, my knees cracking.
“I wish,”
I say to her silhouette
in the blue,
“I wish I could hear
your voice.”

PS: Partial poem creds to Mary Oliver for encouraging me use capitalization, punctuation, and longer lines. Also for telling me to pay attention to the world around me. 🙂


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