A feather, A Foe

There is a bird in my doctor's office, that seems to replicate my feelings.

The gray canary looks at me

Then turns his head He looks my way again

I think he notices me watching

His head is yellow and white

Theres a speck of orange on his cheek

And I am fascinated by his appearance

I think he knows it

With his nimble claws He moves about the black iron cage

Inching his way to his food

He pecks away at his morning meal

Continuing to look at me

A bite

Then his head turns my way

Another bite

The pattern repeats

He sifts his morsels

Examining it for flaws

Carefully picking a seed

Perhaps its broken

Scarred and burnt from natures toxicity

He tosses it aside

For it does not meet his standards

He's never been outside

The confines of the steel bars

A sentence he doesnt understand

For he knows no different

He sees the faces come and go

I see them too sometimes

Some sad

Angry

Tears flowing like the raindrops

He sees out his window

They frighten him

Unsure of his position

He stays perched

Yet lurks

Waiting for the signal

To carry on with his day

Half a fortnight

We meet again

His freedom is apparent

As he moves about the outside

He stares at me again

I contemplate a conversation

I think he does too

Perhaps he'll fly my way

As a feather falls from his brow

We are no longer strangers

I wonder

Does the caged bird really sing?

Or do the voices mute the beauty

Of his kaleidoscope exterior