the lost man chronicles
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Sunday, May 7, 2006

Little Bird, Like Me

I was standing impatiently waiting for the bus when suddenly a small bird—wild finch, sparrow, or whatever those little brown birds are that I see everywhere—came flying underneath and into the grid at the base of the awning I was under.

At that moment, I noticed the loud and rapid shrill of chirping coming from above. I went to go check out what all the commotion was about and found a nest neatly tucked in at the edge of the building.

It quickly became clear to me that Mama Bird had just returned after some idyll gathering and frantic worm stabbing, because the cry of her young immediately began to gradually diminish, ever so minutely, little-by-little, the chirp became softer.

You could almost see the baby bird calming, its tiny eyes getting heavier, its feathers fluffing out as wafts of serotonin soothed the hungry and helpless creature, whose anxiety was now setting as quickly as the sun that was now glowing as a wave of sprawling pink and purple across the horizon.

Soon enough there was silence. If it weren’t for the whoosh of wheels passing by, I am certain that I would have heard a little heart beating serenely at its mother’s breast, and a barely audible breath muzzled by the nuzzle of a big wing protecting her young against the slight chill that twilight on a Spring night like this brings.

Much like the little bird, I felt as if the halcyon had landed, the experience allowing me to forget and relent, if only for a moment, all my own pangs and worries and oh so frivolous woes.

I smiled and wiggled my toes as I barely noticed the telltale yellow marquis lights of my bus coming at me from down the block. It was not until it had pulled up right in front of me and opened its doors that I remembered that I was going somewhere.

Hence, it was a shock to suddenly see before me a driver staring impatiently, his glare shocking me out of my stupor and back into the evening of dancing and revelry I was planning...

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