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.