The Lonely Bird: A poem by Mark Alberto Yoder Nuñez

The night is perilous, dark and cold
The lonely bird sits perched on his roost up above in the
highest branches of the Tree
Keeping still, trying to stay warm
Eyes sometimes closed, sometimes opened very narrowly
Alert, wary of the slithering or gentle padding
The rustling that is not the gentle, night breeze
The anxious breath held in check of creeping, predatory night
creatures
The feline stealth, the restless serpent tongue
The night so dark and ominous as it were Eternal and never
again...