I peeked through the door
As the early morning sun
Sent pale slivers of light
Across the floor
His head was bent
Over his pillow
Too weak
To raise his head
White feathers mounted
On the bathroom floor.
He looked at me,
One now faded blue eye
Accepted my presence
As it swam and rolled
In the ocean of white
Like a wounded bird
He offered his trust
Knowing his life
Floated like a leaf
On this shallow pond.
Knobby knees wobbled
A hand touching his back
To steady him
Slowly we inched
Towards the proffered chair
I heard the cardinal call
In the tree outside his window
And wondered if the bird knew
That one of his own
was being
Called home.
