by Ethel Mortenson Davis
At dawn a loud crash sounded against the house. A flicker lay struggling on the ground, his life ending. A beautiful bird with speckled chest, yellow tail, and red feathers on his head looked as though his spine was broken. I put him in a quiet part of the garden. His weak cries were fearful. Later that day, when I checked, he seemed closer to death. The next morning when I went to collect him, he was gone. I want to think he got up and flew up to the top of my tree, but probably a cat or fox found him on their trek across the country.
2 responses to “Flicker”
I can relate to every word of this poem. My current abode has tinted windows and many a bird fights its own reflection and dies. Very sad.
Thank you. Sadly the bird sees light in the windows and flies toward it. Ethel