“A bird does not sing because it has an answer. It sings because it has a song.”  ~ Charles Lindbergh

 

What if a bird came

and landed right on my outstretched palm.

What if it just flew through the door

and appeared,

resting gently onto me.

 

There is more time between the existence of the Tyrannosaurus

and the Stegosaurus

than the Tyrannosaurus and us.

What makes dinosaurs so interesting?

Is it the necessity for imagination?

 

This bird would be small and colourful

It would have appeared here,

in this unlikely place,

just as I have,

by coming through the door.

 

Exquisitely fragile, each feather would be perfectly 

placed.

It would preen itself

upon landing.

And the curve of its neck would reveal

a lightness to its down

contrasted with the bold-coloured strength of its wing-tips.

 

This bird.

This precious bird.

Relaxed and calm

despite its unnatural surroundings.

 

Soon it will be a memory,

dug up and conjectured upon.

Like the dinosaurs.