A junco came to the window today 

                                               I’m trying to think 

 

like a bird. Bird brain  

gets a bad rap. That’s bigism for you. Think little, 

 

think syllable: If any word can follow this one,

 any reality can. Breeze, breath, tread of a bear 

 

in the yard. 

It’s easy to mistake forbearance 

 

for fear. 

Bear for bird. 

 

Both use claws like fingers 

for a wide 

 

array of tasks. And kiss, call, sing, summon, 

warn. They may even grieve. Like us. 

 

Hull fruit, skin fish, dig. Are pugilistic. Fighters 

if they need to be. 

 

Is that a hint of ozone in the hallway? 

You thought the bear 

 

was so far off, 

we couldn’t possibly 

 

sense a tread, hear or see him nearing. 

That smell is our leavened breath. 

 

We’re so focused on what we don’t see, we almost 

feel feet in the garden, furry 

 

forearms, flutter in the pine. Almost 

see a bear between us;

                                   a beak.