Little birdy told me… by Bill Gekas

Little birdy told me you were coming today.

Little birdy told me it saw you in your big felt hat that shades your sharp blue eyes from the glare of the sunshine. You were wearing your knee-high boots, your chaps, your spurs, and your poncho.

Little birdy told me you were smiling beneath the stubble on your face, and that your face for once mirrored what you carried without inside you; it was a strange smile, one that reached your sharp blue eyes.

Little birdy said you’d seen what’s on the other side of those mountains across the prairie, and you met all sorts of weird and wonderful creatures that have three heads and wings and antlers and jeweled eyes.

Little birdy told me you’d bring candy in your fists, and your hands would be too full of bright colors and bright tastes to inflict pain, and you would only unravel your fingers to drop the sweets into my upturned arms, and perhaps even for an embrace.

Little birdy said you missed mama, and that’s why you were coming back; it implied that you might be missing me too. I didn’t want to press it with more questions.

~Angreek87