The Weight of a Stranger

Little bird,

A mystery to me

You fly in with the snow 

And stay but for a moment.

With your black back, white belly, dark eyes,

You mirror this monotone morning

As if this were your home,

As if this would be a place to belong. 

In a world of reality undefined,

You are as real as the snow 

coating my backyard

Layer upon layer upon layer.

The wind howls, the snow falls.

I watch through double paned glass.

The flames in the fireplace push the cold away;

yet still I wrap a quilt around me.

I do not know how to fix this weary world,

Nor how to stop the screaming.

So, I make sure you are fed.

Is it enough? Is my lowly gift of seeds

Sufficient for safe passage 

through this long, dark winter?

Does my tree provide suitable shelter

From the storm that spits and curls 

about my backyard feeder? Can you find rest

Before a longing nudges and urges you on?

I exchange the weight of the world

For the weight of you, 

an unknown smidge of existence,

The simplest of strangers passing through.

It is a heavy thought

The tinyness of you.

Your feathers, your wings

Tasked with the impossible, and yet

From feeder towards grey clouds you fly

As I, sheltered and safe, 

Bear witness to the tug that pulls you 

Ever closer to your faraway home.

Alone with my heavy heart

I ponder a small feather you left behind

And hope that my kindness unknown

Somehow matters in this cold, dark sky.  

Lisa Alleman

2.24.26