The little bird quit fighting
And quietly stood still in my cupped hands
Waiting its fate

I could feel its little heart trembling
Close,
In my hands

It was the strangest thing:
The bird lost its way into my home
And entered through the chimney

I found it beating its wings at the window
Scared, straggling toward light,
Toward freedom, toward life

Carefully I picked it up
And opening the window,
I let it fly, wondering at the width of its wings

Could not help but thinking of me
And my cupped life
Inside that house

Looking from the window out
Scared of what life could mean
Outside that closed window, outside that closed door.

Was it an omen?
Was it a good omen?

Rea- Silvia Costin, P.E.