The man got three parakeets
so he would not be

Yellow and green,
yellow and green,
white and blue.

They chirped on their perches,
flew to food
and from his hand.

Traumatized by training,
he let them be
a communion to themselves.

Two sat high, one sat low.
Two ate first, one ate last.
All three were heard.

Since two is company
and three are loud
the man woke one day

to a loving pair
and one feathered fluff
lying silent beneath.

The blissful two fluttered
and squawked for years
in the language of birds,

yellow and green,
blue and white,

a focus of motion and music
in the man’s quiet world.

Then one perched high
and the white and blue sky
lay low.

The man gave the last bird away
so it would not be


14 thoughts on “Flutter

  1. so beautiful… makes me think of the giving tree somehow… such generosity of heart.

    I hope you will consider joining me and many others for this year’s gratitude quilt. you can learn more about it by reading the top of my blog. It would be lovely to see your words included… it is not a place for poetry… but an opportunity to express what you are grateful for in a single moment.

  2. Lonely is a difficult condition to escape, and there is a price to pay for some. There’s a haiku-ish sort of mood to this, for some reason Matt, though it is obviously not in the form…just something about the way the natural world echoes in the heart.

  3. Made me cry. One of my parakeets recently died, and now what once was duet is now solo. I haven’t reach your conclusion yet. But I miss the yellow bird. Excellent write regardless if I had birds or not. Very talented and great presentation.

  4. How gratefully, poignantly, and tear-jerkingly accessible. Brings back moments I’ve had with ee. I’d like to post it on my Facebook page.

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