After You've Saved the Bird

So here we are, long married, always empty-nested, bent
cooing over the parakeet that hopped on our window ledge—
homeless, hungry, broken-legged, maybe heaven sent.
Is that absurd, a flight of fancy? I pledge,
No more dramatics. But this creature who chose
you to save his life has somehow rescued me. Instead
of saying no (to that stray dog, to whatever lives and grows
and demands who knows what), I've found a hundred
reasons for assent. I love the way the cloud
on his blue breast pulses yes with every breath, his sage
countenance despite sudden life changes. He's allowed
us to repair and rename him; even in a strange cage
he sings, as if attuned to his own uniqueness—
see his black-whorled skull, just like a thumbprint, inked.

Copyright © 2002 Maria Terrone All rights reserved
from The Bodies We Were Loaned
The Word Works
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission