I wanted a bird

Scott Whitby, 2023

I wanted a bird in a nest on a limb for the world.  So I would have that.

The limb was first.  Not big but strong enough with a perfect fork, and brown.

The nest was colored of twigs and leaves and moss...perfect for my bird.

My bird was red and yellow with graceful feathers and a pouty face and beady eyes and a little green crest.  She could sing so lovely, at least in my mind. The wind would blow and she'd ride on it, singing pretty with her wings whistling harmony.  Then she'd come back to her nest and rest and make me happy.

The world was all that's left.  I wanted it blue with clouds and flowers, music and poems.

Before I could have it, my bird was gone.  

It was never my bird.