A Knock At The Door

He comes and knocks on the glass door
With his beak,
His wings thrashing against it
As he calls me to come and feed him.
I smile.

As I slide the door with food in hand,
He calms down, lands on the ground,
And walks to and fro with his feathered feet.

He’s glad to be out and stretching.

He gobbles up the food I give him
So he’ll be energized
Throughout the next shift.

They’re giving it their all
And this time, for sure,
I know there’s going to be a new acquaintance
In our midst.
….
He came again;
I was not there when he knocked at the door.
But he knew where to find me.
He flew up and knocked on my bedroom window instead.

A Windy Afternoon

The trees sway
As the wind grabs the tips of their fingers
And pulls them in her direction.
They hold their place,
Their fingers swaying in the air like tiny waves
lapping against muddied rocks.
The sparrows complain,
Against the bitterness of the wind.
Their wings collide against her tresses,
Preventing them from reaching their nest
and settling down.
But my eyes fall on our pigeons,
Sitting outside their coop,
Sunbathing.
It somehow makes me feel at peace.