But There's No Wind

He said.

It was two days after the operation

a balmy -28 celsius

almost all the birds had fled

excluding the blue-jays and chickadees –

two of his favourites.

Growing up we always had

a bird book handy 

if anything exotic to us appeared

we would find it out.

Cross-billed, red-breasted, the way

they perched or landed

all part of discovery.   Now at ninety

the hospital was just a perch

that he successfully flitted in and out of.

A winter bird that wears the feathers

of endurance, and most of all
never cease to soar.

Debbie Calverley