A Bird In The Hand



In winter I wait for the cardinals
licks of flame flying through the air
fire burning in the snow 

In spring I wait for the blue jays 

waves of water flapping through the sky 

miniature monsoons hopping in the green 

I don’t have to wait 
for my favorite bird 
as it is the one 
I’ve always had with me 

It is flightless 
yet can go anywhere I point it 

It is of no special color 
yet can be as vibrant as a rainbow 
and as dark as a black hole 

It makes no sound 
yet can be heard and understood 
by those out of range 

It has only one name 
and the whole world knows it 

I carry my bird 
and its mate 
womb to tomb 
egg to end 

I don’t let them loose often 
solo or pair 
but when one or both soar 
the song is loud 
the song is clear 
the song 
is unmistakable 

April 2, 2020

Day 2 of 30

Image of unknown origin, used without permission, with no credit taken, no profit made, and no offense intended.

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