Monday, August 23, 2021

baby bird

a little green  featherball
has taken hold of my room,
my time, my thoughts, my heart 

a week ago the little fellow perched outside my window
charming us with his delicate blend of red, pink and green
he flew past once and shocked with some blue hidden along his back

he flew onto my outstretched bowl and now he is at home
hiding me captive with his tiny beak his bright eyes his chirrups and modulating whistles

at meetings I turn to his room ecerytime I hear a squeal 
to see where he may be
or I run to check on him when I don't hear a sound 
my every waking thought is of him
when I am out dropping my kids at classes or wandering the streets
my everybsentenxe starts with my bird my love lace, named after a 19th century mathematician he rules my world entirely 
has he eaten had he drunk is he getting a balanced diet are the sounds startling him 
I actually managed to teach him to jump onto a stick in my hand first with food and now without 
a second today her perched on my arm and my hear it took straight off
the raptures my child's first kiss gave me consumes me again after 6 years 
will this little featherball be with me for longer? I long to hope and yet dare not, he is so tiny the world so big, our attention span and memories so flighty I dare not hope 
but I live for the moment I can  run back to him
singing all the kili songs I can remember 
a love bird he longs for some touch and nuzzles I think, but we both still learning to trust the other 
he likes music when aishu sings or plays the ukulele he sits content and munches on his seeds

tomorrow I will ask 

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