One Bird
One minute left
To breathe
One stream trickling away from the desert.
One bird lands to sip
Delicately, as birds will
Beakful by beakful
The sweet cool water
Life giving, nourishing.
And then with ten powerful thrusts of his wings
He is again aloft
Looking for something
Only he knows.
One bird in the sky
One story
And not much at all to tell.
But to him
It is the only story that matters.
Fresh Hell 
This put the verse from Counting Crows’ “Rain King” in my head ….
“When I think of Heaven, deliver me
In a black-winged bird
I think of dying
Lay me down in a field of flame and heather
Render up my body
Into the burning heart of God
In the belly of a black-winged bird.”
I don’t know why one reminds me of the other, but the imagery in your poem is iron-strong. Wow.
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Those lyrics are cool.
I’m tickled pink to get a compliment from as strong a writer as you! ❤ ❤
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Is this not every bird’s story? Every living being’s story? You beautifully capture the essence of what it is to be alive, Sarah!
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Pretty much! ^_^ Every little bird has a story, we’re all just trying to stay alive in our own ways…
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