a conversation

Opening the door
I see a bird caught in this big old empty house
every window checked and locked to keep the thieves out, I had
unwittingly closed her in as well

with a silk scarf waving, up and down the steps
“Over here over here! Here is the door to freedom!” I croaked,
in my forgotten dialect of human speech.
she hid herself behind a box on the highest windowsill,
her wings were pinned as she pecked at the storm glass

out I brought the extension ladder
which was purchased to clean the chandeliers
and with protective leather gloves I ascended
hearing the fluttering, FLutTerING, FLUTTERING of her panic!
I covered her in capture and safety; but her heart must have stopped
fear had taken her life; such stillness in my hands

outside I laid her on the green grass bed,
face and breast toward the sky; where I thought
she wanted and wished to be
and I knelt beside her, tears welling, in recognition
of something, some love, I remembered, resonating in that moment.

FLASH ! THE LIGHT CAME ON!
up she flew so fast, taking with her the breath from my body!
it wasn’t hers, but
my heart that had stopped
She, the bird, had been playing dead.