The Bird

By Jean Paul Mazlymian

It sat solitary on the sand

It’s white feathers

and orange beak

visible to him

through the darkness.

It made sounds every so often

As if calling to another

But it would always

return to silence.

He wondered

why it was alone.

He stood up

inching closer

and crouching

It looked at him

He was near enough

to see its eyes

Two small beads

an eerie endless black.

Its eyes contrasted

the untainted white

of its feathers.

He moved in

until he was close enough

To reach out

And touch it

In a moment

it stood up

And flew away.

With outstretched wings,

it flew over the dark waves,

higher into the night sky,


a distant shadow. 

Copyright© 2020 by Jean Paul Mazlymian

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