Note to Self:

Tuesday, March 22, 2016

Feathers and Silence


Feathers and Silence

There was a bird in the house the other day.
In the wood stove.
It came down the chimney.
This isn't the first time,
but it has been a while.
Maybe a couple years.
But this time was different.
I wasn't freaked out.
And I may be presumptuous
on the bird's part,
but she wasn't freaking out either.
I was calm.
So was the bird (seemingly).
I closed the blinds,
shut off the lights,
and opened the front door.
Then I opened the door to the stove
and waited.
It first came to the edge
looking at me
then looked at the doorway.
It was drawn to the light (but aren't we all).
It chirped
and then took flight.
It did a 360 around the room,
then sort of hovered
for a few seconds,
looking at me,
while I looked at her.
The sound of her feathers
in my house
is difficult to describe.
There was no other sound
for a few seconds.
Just a bird
fluttering.
Feathers and silence.
It was beautiful.
Then it turned
and flew out the opened door
and she was gone.
And then it was silent.
Again.

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