A Truth Amid Persuasion
Chirping there, and there,
but never here.
Still, if I am still inside,
the snow bunting will alight on this silver bough.
My hand clutching some vague, icy pain warms away to drops.
Quick eye glints bluer
I am distilled by the assessment.
Crown and downy chest. Splendid and content.
And, I wish to show some shiny thing
because, bent legs and widened wings and it is flight.
And I just make the sound Fl, fl, fl.
Shadow lays claim to your absence
in the little glass, in the tall afternoon.
Bright bird, they once could hush and sway
certain sake and self to rumor because,
it is true enough for them.
The cat slinking, stretching alights soft as nightfall.
Restful, watchful, cooing 'Am I not lovely? '
The all too easy reconciling ease they all do have.
She asks 'Why do you weep? Birds are for sport.'