birds

I was sitting high up on the front verandah of my first house, the family home where I lived until I was eleven. The cement was old and cool under my legs and the old metal railing enclosed the space. Trees stood tall around the verandah, so that some branches reached over, almost to where I sat. An elegant white, blue and black bird, as big as a hen, flew down onto the verandah and sat quite close to me, close enough that I could reach out and stroke her silky tail feathers. I was amazed at her trust. A pair of crows circled around and perched on a nearby branch, content to observe the scene. Then another pair of birds arrived. The male was magnificent: ruby red, emerald green and sapphire blue designs embroidered his plumage and his chest was broad and strong. His beautiful mate was soft grey and white, a smaller and more delicate bird. She flew onto my right shoulder and nestled her body into the curve of my neck. I placed my hand upon her and felt the light weight of her body. I immediately understood that she wasn't well and that her mate, who watched me intently, was entrusting her to me, that he had brought her here to regain her strength.