The Eye Of A Bird
And so I came to a place,
Wondering what could be seen and understood,
In the eye of a bird.
Happening with unexpected connection
While walking on the moist, brown earth,
Amid scattered pine cones,
The black eye of a pristine, hunting robin, held mine,
Pausing in her success,
Undulating worm held captive in a beak of supremely,
She nodded contemplatively upon her russet breast,
With wise, black eye holding mine, communicating,
Appraising, knowing, going on with her very life,
As she alone was meant to do.
This bright spirit, shining from the eye of a bird,
Pierced the doldrum of my morning and granted me
A brief, blessed epiphany of consciousness,
That touched my deepest soul.