by Alison Calder**
When I was small a bird
Flew into my eye.
At first, wings battered
heart beating the sound
a handful of pebbles
dropped from a bridge into water
I covered my face, looked away from others.
They were confused by fluttering
behind my eyes, scratching sounds.
When I cried pinfeathers smothered the sun.
Lately I've learned to see through wings.
My eyes become golden, my fingers
turn talon. I seek high places.
One day soon I'll climb higher than you
can imagine. I've told no one of my plan.
Only the corner of my eye can give me away.
A small fluttering thing tries to get out.