Waiting for Wings

I spilled seed on frozen bark,

metal mesh swinging like a loose tooth.

A shivering sparrow flinched,

then dipped in quick, bright darts.

The cold air cracked sharp,

tiny claws clutching at bitter crumbs,

fragile hope in a frostbitten world.

The feeder hummed hollow,

a lullaby for the lonely bird,

waiting for wings to carry it elsewhere,

far from quiet mornings spent watching

seeds drop slow to ice and dirt.