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[a favorite from 2000]

THE GRAY ONE

He sat and watched the sparrows play...around the
feeders there.
His wife had loved those little birds...but now
he didn’t care.
She always kept the feeders full...and birds
would flock around,
And squirrels would eat the bigger seeds...that
fell upon the ground.

It seemed those little birds would wait...for her
at first sunlight,
He thought they must have slept...in all the
bushes within sight.
But yesterday he buried her...his wife of thirty
years,
And now alone he watches them...and tries to hold
back tears.

He doesn’t want to feed the birds...the feeders
have run dry,
But all the birds still flock around...and he
just wonders why?
He doesn’t want to start with it...he’ll probably
take them down,
He really doesn’t care right now...if they don’t
come around.

So, day by day he sits and stares...beyond the
feeding place,
So far into the distance...in another time and
space.
And, one by one the sparrows leave...but one
still comes each day,
It’s different from the other ones...one wing is
colored gray.

Then each day as the days went by...the little
bird was there,
The feeders were all empty...but he didn’t seem
to care.
The sparrow sat upon the perch...and seemed to
look at him,
He sat about an hour...then he flew away again.

He wondered if that little bird...had been her
favorite,
Because there was no food for him...but there he
still would sit.
So he went to the garden shed...to try to find
some seed,
He thought if just a handful...he knew that was
all he’d need.

He found a bag within a plastic pail....that she
had kept,
And as he thought about his wife...he just sat
there and wept.
He thought again, she loved those birds...but now
they were all gone,
Except the little gray-winged one...he was a
hanger-on.

So everyday he took some seed...just enough for
one,
And watched until the little bird...had eaten and
was gone.
Then he took the extra seed...that remained on
the tray,
And saved it to use once again...for him the
following day.

He wondered where the bird would go...each day
when it was fed,
It never hung around the bushes...it flew off
instead.
Then weeks went by and everyday...the little bird
would come,
And leave and fly away again...the minute he was
done.

But then one day it didn’t come...and then a week
went by,
He thought it must had flown away... some place
where it could die.
He knew something had happened...when the sparrow
didn’t come,
So then he took the feeders down...his feeding
days were done.

There was a bag of seed left...in the little
garden shed,
He put it in his car trunk...knowing that the
bird was dead.
He’d take it to his sister...who had feeders at
her place,
To throw it in the garbage...would seem such a
total waste.

Then early Sunday morning...he arose before the
dawn,
To visit his wife’s resting place...and manicure
the lawn.
He always took some flowers...and would place
them by her stone,
He felt she knew that he did not...just leave her
all alone.

It seemed like such a lonely place...when he
would visit there,
And he knew that she never liked...to be alone
somewhere.
Then as he parked his car to walk...to where his
wife did rest,
As always fighting back the tears...he tried to
do his best.

But through his tears he saw the grave...and then
he had a thought,
Remembering the bird seed...and he whispered,
“Oh, why not?”
He went and got the bag of seed...and spread some
on her place,
And as he did he hoped his friends...would not
think it disgrace.

But as he did, he thought the birds...would also
come again,
And then his lovely wife would be...surrounded by
her friends.
He thought he’d do this everyday...he knew she
wouldn’t mind,
He loved his wife so very much...and she would
think this kind.

So as he spread the seed about...he knew her
friends would come,
And he would bring the seed to them...until his
days were done.
And then he’d tell his children...when beside her
he would lay,
To bring the seeds and feed her friends...just as
he did today.

But as he stood and watched for birds...behind an
old oak tree,
His eyes began to tear again...at what he now did
see.
A little bird, the first to come...to get some
seed that day,
A little sparrow and it had...a wing the color
gray.

— James “PoppyK” Kisner