I treaded the stillness that embraced the woods,
the lonely trees that beckoned as they stood,
under the canopy of an auburn shroud,
with their fingers straining to touch the clouds.
When I looked up in humble greeting,
to the faces of the ancient wrinkled trees,
I saw a little bird come by and it,
Perched on one of the trees’ outstretched fingers.
Two tiny stroke of brilliant blue between brown,
With a bright orange beak that crowned,
Its small head atop a white feathered bosom;
And periodically it bobbed its head
As if straining to see what lay behind
The blazing curtain of a fire unlighted.
I continued looking at the blue winged creature
Wishing it could somehow hear my silent calls,
That yearned to look more closely
At the awe that the quiet bird held
To me as it dismissed my wishes
And flew away as it had flew in
Disappearing beyond the curtain of the fire unlighted,
To hold, oblivious, someone else’s fascination.