By 6 a.m. I’m sitting at the screen
of my computer, straining for the word
I need to make a couplet sing, the scene
as mute as monasteries, when a bird
attacks my window, never seeing glass.
Its body bombed the pane so hard I jumped.
It dropped to ground too heavy for its mass
and fluttered out its wings, and then it slumped.
Investigating carefully I feared
I’d seen a sparrow take its final flight.
I gave it half an hour. It appeared
the creature might recover life and sight.
It took some time. I kept the dog inside.
The sparrow’s gone but I don’t think it died.
(published August 2013 in Cyclamens & Swords)