I see the little red bird
On my window sill,
A startling presence.

For a time

The bird sits
Framed in my window,
A red spot against a white scene.

For a time

The world outside
Is reflected in his feathers,
Glowing crimson.

For a time

He begins to share a soft tune
Meant only for me;
An audience of one.

For a time

I allow myself
To be mesmerized
By the melody.

For a time

I am immersed in the song,
Drowning
In the sound.

For a time

I imagine
That every pitch, each tune
Is meant for me.

For a time

Nothing can touch me, I fly away
With the notes of the red bird’s song
Carrying me,

For a time

And then I shut the window.