Jake, the little green bastard. I’ve been missing him a great deal lately, and he died quite a few years ago. Isn’t it funny how the dead return in a soft splendor, and leave us with such longing. Jake was more like a little person than a parrot. It’s that personhood we miss. The companionship. And he pretty much had something to say about everything.

So, for you, little man…

I saw the wing of a bird
stretched open before me
a dark green shadowed by the forest
from where he came
and then I felt the beating heart
nestled into me
his head upon my lips