a bird in rain
A black bird.
Or at least that is the animal that chose me. A very big black bird.
This bird comes in times of change.
Most of my life is times of change. That means big black birds are around a lot.
In Seattle, there were twenty four of them spinning pinwheels outside my window. Before I left. Saying, Go, go, go.
For days, when I woke up, it was because the birds were yelling.
I did not want to talk to them. I did not want to open those blinds.
But I finally said, Okay. And opened the blinds.
There they were. Five big black birds.
And the dead bird. Resting dead on a utility pole. High up.
It has been raining hard. And I wonder if after the rains end, that bird will still be there.
Or how I can get him down.
The other birds, that for days have been messing with me to make me see, fly away.
It is raining so hard.
I keep wondering how I can get that bird down.