Sunday Poem

Other

When I had yet to to learn the nature
of words, I had no sense
the trees and animals
I walked among were something
I was not.

Only when I saw
the swallow fly into the glass
of the window I was
watching through,
and picked it up,
and felt its life struggle
to get back inside,
as its eyes closed
and its head shook
and my hand felt its body
cool and become
a thing somewhere
beyond a glass
that wouldn’t let me through.

by Dan Gerber
from
Narrative Magazine

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