by Linda Neering
A little Brown Creeper is what you are. Now dead to be buried from your flight from afar. The wind, or the glass or maybe the two, cut short your time here, a quick death would do. You laid by my office door most all of the day. Not one stopped to move you. It's dead..that's o.k. But I looked at you closer and saw your hummingbird bill. What kind of bird was this? Not our "run of the mill". I called and I told of your colors and size. A kind lady told me, it was quite a surprise! You were a Brown Creeper from far or from near. I'll bury your body. Your "being" now knows no fear.