Early this morning, near the end of sleep, I came upon a tiny yellow bird. He was bright, cheerful, and no bigger than a thimble, a plump fellow resting on a rocky ledge. He was not afraid. A few inches away was another bird I might describe as his shadow, the same size and every bit as friendly and alive, dressed in soft reddish-brown colors. For a time after I awoke, the birds flitted from rock to rock before stopping within reach one last time to look at me, and to let me look at them, then off they flew. Maybe tonight you will see them. And they will see you.
November 8, 2021
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Categories: Dreams, New Poems & Pieces
Tags: Birds, Diaries, Dreams, Flight, Journals, Joy, Sleep, Thimbles
William Michaelian 