Brown Bird

A small brown bird

nervously sitting in the

palm of your hand—

unwilling, or unable,

to fly.

You can feel its

tiny heart

flutter in your hand—

the barest of pulses—

yet it surges

through your body

like thunder.

If it stays,

you can only stare

into those mysterious,

expectant eyes

and wait.

if it decides

to fly,

you cannot close

your hand

to stay its flight.

Yet, there it sits

head turning

side to side

looking up at your

puzzled face.

You cannot feel

its weight—

you cannot

grasp it—

It holds you

spellbound

till, with a flutter

that empties your

soul,

it flies.