August 05, 2002

swallow

Find out too late
maybe never
the swallow in the
garage yesterday,
drawn to the
shine of the
black truck,
what he saw there,
himself.

the sudden sound
of damage
wings meet metal
flight interrupted
by panes of glass
he doesn't know how
to stop trying
to break free.

How long did it
take me
to open the door
watch him fly off
touch down
on the highest branch
the nearest tree,
his rapid altitude saying
no thanks to you.

I pick up a feather
study its fine lines
play tricks with
patterns
wonder
is this all
he lost?