A little bird told me
By Parson Thru
A bird landed on my finger today.
It happened very quickly.
I was reading in the park. Cigarette burning in my hand. Little finger raised.
That’s where it landed. I felt its warm bird-feet balance, then close around me. Sharp little claws. But so gentle.
I was miles away. Engrossed in the book. Here they say “the moon over Valencia”.
I shook the poor thing off, thinking it was… well, I don’t know what.
The bird was on the ground, looking up at me. I’d have offered it a scrap from the table, but there weren’t any.
I have a mental picture: slightly taller than a sparrow, and thinner; breast yellow-green; small head, possibly brown with green cheeks; wings brown and yellowish-green, maybe.
I don’t think either of us knew what to do. So we just looked.
Then it flew away.
Someone says it might have been a finch.
Perhaps with a message: “Stop smoking.”
I’m an occasional smoker – on and off. It helps with bouts of anxiety and tension. I’m always on the verge of stopping, or starting.
Maybe that’s it.
If so, I think I might know who it was.
This isn’t my first bird-encounter.