Another bird, Friday, quarter to seven in the morning.
It’s full daylight at that time.
It used to be
the sun was only just then coming up.
What is it about the birds?
Do the children find themselves trapped in the same way,
unable to find their way out again?
And fluttering, exhausted, to the ground.
And can I
scoop them up in my hands, their thin bones like glass in my hands,
and take them out into the day again, the light
they are searching for?
A Return to Words 
This poem feels full of sadness, the poet remembering her own childhood of being trapped behind glass, searching for the light and having no one to scoop her up and free her…I resonate to it, and my arms shiver. Nevertheless, it works because all this goes unsaid, and the poem is about birds, with thin bones like glass…I really liked it.
I’m so glad.
The birds at my school kept getting lost in the hallway, but it made me think of so many other things.
Incredible poem.
Thank you so much. I’m sorry I didn’t reply for so long. It didn’t occur to me anyone was reading this blog.
There was a dove stuck above the flue in my fireplace last week. It fell down the chimney two floors, but wasn’t injured from what I could tell. I just picked it up and took it outside.
It sat in my hands for a moment before flying away. I think it was scared.
There is something about the birds.