by Abigail Taylor
I disturbed a little bird’s peace,
when I sat at the car port table
to read a few lines before dark.
She may have been on a stroll home,
to the tiny nest above the lantern by the door.
Now she sits, on an eye-level branch,
chirping politely from a distance,
as I am now between her and home,
and for all she knows, her enemy.
A brave attempt or two has been made
to jump into the air toward danger,
but she ultimately returns to her perch,
patiently waiting, the prettiest soprano
in the trees. Let us both retire.
© Abigail Taylor, 2017.