THE TITMOUSE

Look suffering

straight in the eye.

Try not to blink.

Look beyond 
the long lashes,

the crusted tear ducts,

the crow’s feet,

the hazeled glaze.

Beyond

the unruly display

of emotions,

fear,

shame,

anger,

and pride,

all vying for

your attention.

Yes, there!

See it?

In the corner

by the window,

in the country cottage,

swinging on its

tiny trapeze

in its gilded cage,

the titmouse,

patiently waiting

for spring

to return 
its early 

morning song.