Saturday, November 29, 2014

Forest Bird

© Steve King
All rights reserved

A forest bird lost its way
from the cool shade of its wood,
skimming across my clearing,
it glided in bright vision,
at the window where I stood—
where it saw itself to be,
finding itself, finally.

And so, inevitable:
that moment of gathered life
when unwinding fates are met,
and all futures come to pass:
griefs and gladness and regret.

Then, nothing:  it lay so still,
small beneath the window glass.
I watched from shadow within,
quiet beauty pictured so:
gone the song and stilled the flight,
as all beauty we may know;
muted accents clinging fast
to that vestige of delight.

Sweet vestige that must outlast
forest birds lost in the light.

A new poem for the Poetry Pantry


  1. have watched a few birds hit the is rather sad...especially in the thought that they feel they have finally found themselves...and in the end only meet death....

  2. "that moment of gathered life when unwinding fates are met" - what a glorious line. So poignant "gone the song and stilled the flight as all beauty we may know". Beautifully written!

  3. When the bird hit the glass. such a devastating moment.. the silence left behind is a burden indeed.. wonderful

  4. Bjorn expressed my thoughts very well.

  5. So sad when a bird loses it's way and meets it's final destiny. Makes my heart ache

    "gone the song and stilled the flight" a beautifully sad line..

  6. What a tragic incident and poem. This has a very classic feel to it, in the cadence and the careful noting of detail, and the story itself--and the special irony of the hit coming at a kind of climax or false epiphany--and one wonders at all the glass walls we are aiming at in search of self-realization, or just perhaps the shine of a kind of promise of it--very well done, Steve. Thanks.

  7. a sad tale, but how well you captured it in those words.

  8. This is very well written, Steve, and so very sad. You wrote the experience sensitively and reflectively, in a way that really made me empathize with the little bird.

  9. Sad, tender and beautifully written.