February 1985
“What
was that?!”
But
even before
the
words had leapt
unbidden
from my lips
or
the dark blur streaked
the
edge of my vision
I
knew
that
squawking
sound
of terror
that
harsh repeating cry
was
a captured bird
watched
hunted tracked
pounced
upon
and
swiftly brought indoors
by
Joe-the-cat, long-legged,
small-headed
smart-aleck Joe,
shiny
black lap-sized panther
living
in our house.
Rushing
shouting after him
with
relief we saw
the
small tight zipper-mouth
release
its hold –
felt
the thrum of beating wings
the
sudden feather-fall
the
frenzied urgency
of
the captured cardinal’s flight,
staggering
through motionless air,
window
to closed window,
wall
to solid wall.
It
seemed forever.
At last,
plunging
through
the curtain folds,
it
made a shuddering fall,
hopped
out of sight.
And
then the rescue:
my
almost grownup son,
your
young expansive hands
--
half boy’s, half man’s –
closing
with firm and
infinitely
tender strength
around
that frantic
beating
heart.
Purposeful
as a pioneer
making
his way west
you
marched
with
your delicate charge
through
the open door
and
beyond.
For
a breathless moment
you
were fused:
time
pausing
bird
and boy
absolutely
still
under
the lamplight
surrounded
by snow
your
arm straight out
the
trembling creature
poised
unbound
on
your steady
open
palm –
then
a wild and pure
diagonal
to heaven –
and
the crimson bird
was
gone.
From
the door I saw
your
happiness explode
like
winter fireworks
your
arms flung upward to the sky
I
thought whole flocks of birds
might
spring from your open fingers
and
fly soaring
toward
the stars.
Leaping
and prancing
your
exuberant feet grow wings,
scatter
diamonds in the snow,
feather
the crystal air
with
exclamation points
of
light. My own heart
swelling
like a bird’s,
love
crowding my throat,
blurring
my view
of
you and the lamp
and
the snowlit night,
in
this luminous moment
your
freedom dance
of
pride and joy is for me
as
miraculous
as
flight.