by Ashley Grice
The bird’s loud, klutzy rooftop slide
bared Mother Nature’s awkward side.
Black eyes locked on my startled stare,
her wings a blur in frigid air.
She hit the deck with claws splayed wide,
hawkish chagrin, and wounded pride,
then opted for a quick ascent
to fly off her embarrassment.
She circled once, stared straight ahead:
I wonder if her cheeks were red.