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,

He soars

Becoming just a speck in the vast blue sky.