Bio Note: I'm a former teacher who enjoys travel and, when not shooing deer from my garden, baking and writing with my husband in our woodland home. My latest publications are Or Current Resident (Aldrich Press, 2019) and Silk (Evening Street Press, 2019).
Bird at my window wants to see what this hapless beast might be— furless featherless, wriggling sprouts for paws like a great misshapen grub (no fangs, no claws), something vulnerable as winter fleas yet big, exposed to the trees beyond the window and the sky, toweling itself dry. Bird cocks its head from side to side and tries to decide how this appendaged, pink worm-in-great-danger, this wingless moth bod without needle or bristle, can pucker its beakless mouth so casually and whistle.
©2020 Clela Reed
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