Himself

This is Ted’s teacup.
(Thank you Terry)
And an old coin silver spoon
with which Ted gifted us a long time ago.

But that bird…
she’s all mine.

Cardinal Wolsey.
Each time I painted her,
I fell deeper into those eyes.

There’s a thing about birds.
You can never get close enough
in person
to really look into their eyes.

I have dozens of good photos now of Wolsey,
but there are hundreds of blurry rejects
that were snapped just before
and just after she smashed into the window.

The split second of the camera lens
has given me a gift.

For all her racket,
and by that I mean
demented
torturous
unrelenting
eternal-faucet-dripping
madness of the tapping…

she really has beautiful eyes.

God, I’ve fallen for the bird.