the adolescence of a nameless bird
studied, through patio glass
nothing to eat here, my friend
one or three peremptory pecks he makes,
then sees me
why aren’t you flying away, old chum,
like birds do
I look more closely-
sure looks like the one who hit our window yesterday
and we couldn’t find him
there’s a peculiar head movement
a familiar cockeyed tilt
he bobs up and down, takes his leave
a spinal chill comes to me
I ring up Charlie’s room
Charlie passed in the night.
Stories, poetry, narratives of true experience, and guests who have moved me.
One of my friends dad’s took his own life, left no note. The family were out in the car one day when a whole load of white feathers covered the windscreen and then were gone – no bird – just feathers. She told me that she had a strong sense that it was her dad. A few days later and a bird with white feathers took up residence in their garden. I’m not a very spiritual person, but somehow I believed that.
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