Nocturnal Birds

By Allegra Stodolsky 

Part I 

These fluttering beings are rare to find 

Sleeping through the day’s light to jump out of the nest at sun-set they dance and sing along lonesome cherry blossom boulevards, skip along the moonlit sands 

these are the nights they cherish in their minds. 

To survive the darkness they feed on colours: blues, greens, purples and yellows. Illuminated are their paths, for their glossy bright eyes shine like stars For a moment, or two, they share a flight of happiness with you and as suddenly as they appeared they disappear: leaving you with just one shoe only later to tell you their stories in scribbles on shiny post cards with a P.P.S. “To make it clear, I took your shoe as a souvenir.” 

Not a penny pincher, grabber, scavenger or churl 

It’s in their nature to hoard things like squirrels do: 

stored in safe places which are never again to be found. 

What matters to them, is an invisible cloud 

That follows them and protects them from losing their mind.

Most incredible, virtuous and innocent is their kind 

making them free of fear, yet blind. 

After a long nights wonder they take their time to ponder while dazing at the sunrise they close their eyes and hide. 

Part II 

Ripped to pieces, uncovered and exposed 

Unlucky are some, for the nights blanket doesn’t cover all those who travel alone. 

It’s cruel to be tricked and in an instant it clicks, 

but kicking and chirring doesn’t help. As mother once said: “Truth has to be witnessed before it can be recorded.” 

The shine is mudded to a faint glow, 

the misty gardens surrounded by flashing red traffic lights.

Shiver, quiver and shake it off, for most it is time to awake It’s getting late, what a shock today. 

“Today I’ll miss the sunrise but there is no reason to be terrified.”

Maybe this is a chance to see a nautical day, 

wipe off the glitter and lonesome glamour 

an opportunity to see the anthesis of a flower, 

sunbathe off the glimmer of the flowing river 

After such an encounter, allow the fear quiver. 

Part III 

Oh, how long it has been that a rainbow could be seen 

With comfort the dirt, drop by drop, is washed away 

so bright, light and everything in sight, the wounded can see the bruises heal

The fear began to peel, leaving all but a faint dismay 

which serves as a form of solace, the cognition of a new sort of pain this too can be seen as a gain. 

another tone of colour was brought to their plate 

a shade left by the scare enabled the smell of concern and suspicion as time flies by, the joy of being alive again

glows bright in those twinkly eyes and soon this story too, you will find outside your door, 

hidden in the form of scribbles, in a long forgotten shoe.