Settling outside the window
a small bird about the size of my hand
with long sharpened toes
hooks it’s legs to a wooden fence
With a puffed out lion’s chest
protruding sinuous wings
its brown coat gleams at the sky
The neck is flexible
aware of friends or foes
no matter what direction
The bird whistles
with a tone unafraid
articulating lyrics nestling with
the winds of fresh evenings
It pecks its wings
still posted on a narrow fence
The beak digs below the armpit
as if holding a hidden pocket
scraping and poking the flesh
hoping to bleed relief
It seems the blood releases
and the sting of fleas ceases
For now it’s skin is left alone
I glimpse at the TV
looking back at the window
and saw the bird had flown away