A LITTLE BIRD -S.M. Moore

“a little bird”

I stare at the shed and notice a bluebird 
on that nearby tree,
on that branch halfway up, chirping.

Hey, my coworker says 
Hey, I say 
Are you distracted, she says 
Sorry, I say 
And she leaves 

And I go back to my bird. 
But it is no longer chirping on that branch,
halfway up that tree, 
next to the shed. 

I see the buildings now,
and I feel the ceramic in my hand.
And I recognize myself, 
staring at the building across from mine,
and I see a man staring back at me.
And that man sees a bluebird.

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