One Bird in the Cold

While circling the house,
It flew through the air.
Nearly the size of a mouse,
It had feathers instead of hair.

It was a bird,
And it sure was cold.
The cold was absurd,
And the bird was getting old.

The house looked hot.
The bird felt cold.
It was willing to take a shot,
With its wings in a fold.

It saw a square to go for.
It dove and gained speed,
For the openning next to the door.
Nearly done was the deed.

It was coming so quick.
It was coming so fast.
It came to the window,
And then it hit the glass.

Ian Chase

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