A delicate silhouette flits through the sun-kissed leaves
Darting from tree to tree
Hopping around the birches outside my bedroom window.
The little creature, so self-assured and confident
Trusts his stubby brown wings to take him over the spindly branches.
He doesn’t hesitate to take the leap.
For just a second, he dangles precariously
Clinging to life by a tiny claw
Gripping the silvery bark as if it was all he’d ever known.
Wings beating furiously, he becomes nothing more
Than a blur of brown and gray
A swirl of colors against the pale morning sky.
But he steadies himself, deftly shifting his weight
Over the unsteady perch.
As aloof and haughty as ever,
He fluffs up his mottled feathers
Settling down to bask in the sunlight
And his own smug cleverness.
He tilts his head, peering into the window
And sees me standing motionless, fascinated by his peculiarity.
Those obsidian-black eyes gleam, bright with curiosity
As if they contain the secrets of a world privy to him alone.
Perhaps a place of simplicity, of beauty and wonder
Of innocence and peace.
Yet, I hardly capture his attention for a moment
When he swivels his head around suddenly
Distracted, perhaps by the everything around him that he has yet to explore.
Wings poised, with the same unwavering faith,
Becoming just a speck in the vast blue sky.