I woke up this morning
Depressed from a dream

In the dream, I was cradling
A little yellow bird
In my hands
I could feel a strong attraction
A bond
Love
For the small yellow bird
As it cheeped gingerly
In my cupped hands

I was walking through a vast field
With a carpet of waist high grass
With the little yellow bird


I told it to fly
And opened it's makeshift cage of
Flesh blood and bone
And it took off

But it had only just left my hands
When it dropped dead
Its tiny body being lost
In the gently blowing
Waist high reeds

I bent down and picked up its limp frame
One wing splayed over the edge of my palm
And I wept

I dropped to my knees and wept
The grass touching my face

Then I woke up
And I looked out the fogged, wet window
But outside
All the birds were black.