i took a little walk this morning after the eighth time waking from broken sleep

to clear my head

or so i assumed

the angry gnomes dislike peace

tranquility is the antithesis of their existence

so i walked to my favorite bench and greeted the rising sun with a snarl

the damned birds singing sweet songs of life from every branch around me

a sparrow landed on the arm of the bench and stared me down with a cocked headed look

i returned the gesture in kind

we just sat there

staring incomprehensibly at one another as the rays of light erased the night slowly

each of us unsure what the other was up too

it hopped onto the bench warily

i sat even more still

it got within a few inches from me, the bold little feathered bastard

looking up at my face with intent yet vacant eyes

then it turned and watched the sun with me

there was some small measure of comfort in not being alone this morning on the bench as the sun rose to banish the dark

then it grew bored and the gnomes demanded coffee so we parted

i imagine it is on a branch right now chirping poetry about the bald headed bear that shared sunrise with it

none of the other birds will believe it

the life of a poet is often loneliness broken by small moments of connection

then faced with ridicule by those that haven’t ever had a moment of peace in a world that only knows chaos

i named him charles birdkowski

somewhere he is penning an ode to the cardinal with fire in her eyes

that minx in which he loves

she is most likely sharing a nest with another bird while he has to slum with the bald bears

makes for a good poem though