And the Bird

And the Bird

The day after you 

left was gorgeous and still, 

the wind was biting

but the sky was 

of the purest blues,

and there perched 

a bird on the scraggly oak

--a fellow whose 

face I had never hoped

to learn...suddenly I 

yearned so much for you 

to return, and I called out 

your name to the blue, blue skies. 

The bird cried aloud

--once, twice, thrice, in reply. 

His melody was high and sweet

and with a hint of something 

menacing, but before I 

could call back, he disappeared 

into the awaiting trees 

without another sound.