The Little Bird

I slip, you know,
sometimes,
but I felt today
missed, wanted,
and to be
honest,
it was a good feeling
that I almost
forgot
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
somewhere
in the middle
of this feeling;
where the seed
germinates
beneath
my feet in sleep,
but waking, slowly,
come Spring.

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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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