by Ethel Mortenson Davis
for Rocco Tripodi who worked with children in theater
Little bird
came near
my window.
Ruffled feathers
couldn’t keep
his eyes from closing.
I found him later,
just a wisp
of a body.
Only yesterday
he was bright-eyed
with slicked-back feathers.
The townspeople said
he taught
their children
how to fly.
fourwindowspress 