Window

 

Caught in the slim cell between pane and screen,

a robin, desperate to go out

 

the way it came in,

flapped its wings with fury.

 

It had flown into the web of wire,

ensnaring itself as it broke through,

 

hit glass. Though I lifted

the sash, the red breast pushed

 

forward, refusing

to turn around, fly into the garage,

 

out the raised door.

We feared its wing would tear

 

from its shoulder, that its heart

would melt from the instinct burning

 

behind the bars of its ribs.

So we unhinged the panel from the jamb,

 

like removing a gate from a cage,

releasing the bird into the morning air,

 

then followed it, stretching

our bodies through the window

 

that seemed, in the mercy

of the moment, to go on opening

 

and opening.

 

 

Nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2008, Julie L. Moore is the author of Slipping Out of Bloom, forthcoming from WordTech Editions, and Election Day (Finishing Line Press). Recent work appears in Alaska Quarterly Review, Atlanta Review, Blue Earth Review, Briar Cliff Review, Chautauqua Literary Journal, Cimarron Review, Dogwood, Free Lunch, Sou’Wester, and Valparaiso Poetry Review. Her website is http://www.julielmoore.com/

.