Fragile

Wednesday morning, 6 AM.

Long low whistle outside.
Not a bird I’ve heard before.

Open a window to clarify:
there it is, a rich trill,
tones descending,
in near distance.

In full view
fat sparrow, fence-mounted, fluffs herself.
Cat whines softly and I step aside
to let her leap up, settle, 
stare.

There’s that whistle again. Clearly
not made by this sparrow or any other.  
Something’s out there  
I don’t know —

squirrel scolds as usual, sparrow
fluffs out as usual, cat stares as usual,
I have to take out trash as usual.
It’s bagged and I’m ready

but I hesitate, fearing I might
break something 
simply by stepping into 
this.

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About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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