Poetry

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Sun breaks through mid morning.
Your quick movement catches my eye,
single songbird perched on Joe’s truck.
You sing, tail bobbing, happy for the day,

Then suddenly swooping down, you
throw yourself at the side mirror.
Again and again you flutter there pecking at the glass,
frantic in your attempt
to make some narciscisstic connection,
or to pass into what looks better
behind the looking glass.

I stand barefoot in the doorway watching,
dog lounging at my feet,
sun warming my toes.

Joe
was that you this morning,
sharing peace before you passed into something wonderful?
Did you sing?
Are you singing now?
Did you flutter, caught between
now and the reflection of glory just beyond the glass,
and then, in the blink of an eye

fly away?

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