The bird flutters gently against the window.
I want in. I want in.
It pecks its beak against the pane.
Let me in. Let me in.
Crumbs of bread scattered across the sill.
Why won't you let me in? Why? Why?

The bread brought it. And now the bird is ready.
The secret will be revealed. It is ready to say.
She is ready to say it.
So let me in. Let me in.
The pane will crack soon.  The crumbs consumed.
Let her in. Let her in.

In the end, the beak shatters.
In the end, the talons, tiny, are blunted.
In the end a bird is no match for the window.
Something so easy to break.
So strong against this bird.
It. It is done.
I am done.

The bird flies away.