Bird on the Fence

Suzanne Morris

March 27, 2022

This is no ordinary bird–  

like a bright red cardinal

beaming down from the sky

or a great winged titan

wheeling on high– 

the bird that lands on the fence

next to the parking lot

where I’m waiting in the car

for a takeout lunch after

reading a poem I wrote

at a funeral.

The bird’s feathers are

dun-colored

slightly darker on the

head and tail,

dingy and matted as if it hasn’t

taken a dip in a birdbath lately.

An outcast of the bird family,

no doubt, a mongrel 

abandoned to

fend for itself.

The bird is infested with

lice, or mites, maybe,

that it pecks at furiously,

under its wings, under its tail,

all over its body

shaking its head and

stamping its feet in consternation.

Poor little rascal,

I think,

and I am inspired to

write a poem about

this ugly bird making an

exhibit of itself

in front of a lady waiting

for her takeout lunch in the car.

Perhaps the bird is acting out

the story of its hard life,

at the conclusion of which

it will grow very still, then

lift its rumpled breast

and burst into a

lyrical, heart-rending aria

after which I will cheer and

toss it a coin.

But when I glance at my watch

and look back again,

it is gone.

A novelist with eight published works spanning forty years, Suzanne Morris now focuses largely on writing poems. Her poetry is included in the anthology, No Season for Silence - Texas Poets and Pandemic (Kallisto GAIA Press, 2020). Examples have also appeared in The Texas Poetry Assignment and The New Verse News.