I woke like something hatching

from a plain egg—gray, speckled

with brown. Hatched like a plain

bird, a common bird. Some kind

of sparrow, spotted like last year’s

leaves and litter. I started the coffee,

leashed the dog, stepped out

into the rain where a robin—

an ordinary bird—was singing.

2 comments on “PLAIN BIRD

  1. Christine Lee Moore says:

    Lovely sentiment. I hope, after hearing the plain, ordinary bird singing, you joined in.

  2. Margie says:

    Yes, we all have our song. And, suddenly, we aren’t “plain” anymore! I, too, appreciate the sentiment in this poem, Mary. You have me listening for my song this morning, visiting in mid-town Manhattan, horns honking, sirens and just plain noise!

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