A bird flits about presenting itself in full suit and song at my side by the window.
Every moment it speaks of the child.
The one nested in me.
The one I'm about to banish.
After the dreaded event, I find the nest vacant.
Sent to the ethers, my Jinn; my little one who whispered in the silence, sounds of joy, spring, and mourning.
Hello and goodbye, sweet, sweet, lulla bye.
© 1999 Sonja J. Phinney
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