Day 17 / Write 28 Days: Noticing

From Nowhere

You glance and see nothing: 
twigs, limbs, a havoc of tumble and risk, 
spindle and skewer, and then light 
shifts, leaves twitch, something woody drops, 
and now there’s a bird, a bird from 
nowhere, concealed by nothing 
but what’s always been there. 

A sparrow, you think, watching it 
bend and lean, splashed and 
slashed with rust, black, white, 
worrying its beak on the branch, 
and now there are two, three, 
forming themselves like splintered apparitions,
resolved like soft bombs tossed and waiting, 
cryptic, ticking, aware of the air, 
primed to fall or flash, surrendered 
to the hour’s sudden truce

as you slip away,
collateral.

© M Wms 2022