The Little Bird

I slip, you know,
but I felt today
missed, wanted,
and to be
it was a good feeling
that I almost
what it was like
to be the
little bird,
who dropped
the seed
he tried
to carry home
last Winter,
that fell between
the cracks
on the sidewalk,
where I almost
fell myself today;
ass on the asphalt,
but didn’t,
and instead
caught myself
in the middle
of this feeling;
where the seed
my feet in sleep,
but waking, slowly,
come Spring.

Tagged ,

4 thoughts on “The Little Bird

  1. Mike says:

    A delightful stream of thought that culminates with unexpected satisfaction. Nice work.

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