Alone Once More

He sat still on the wet wooden bench

hunched into the warm, but damp jacket.

Each breath inhaled, and exhaled slowly,

intent on not frightening the little bird.

It sat perched on his hat. He could feel it.

Ready to fly off in a moment if startled.

They sat there, the old man and the bird.

Neither quite trusting the other.

He did not want to have to wash the hat.

The bird shifted.  Tiny nails digging in,

to gain better balance with wings closed.

The man helped, by dropping his chin.

They sat. Enjoying the other's company.

Until the moment was disrupted, by a car

frightening the bird into flight.

The man was left alone once more.

sitting on the wet wooden bench.

2010 © , Tamera Dobbins