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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