A Wooden Bird

Double windows
With their white sashes raised,
Pouring light on the faded rug.

My eyes squint
While I hold a bird
With stuck-on feathers
And a plaited breast.

My hands guide
Its flapping pinions,
Igniting leaps from my dozing cats.

Pirouettes in sunlight
And flashes of honed claws
Scatter the feathers
Like leaves by a wind.

Amid the rustle of still-green leaves,
A lone sparrow chirps on its hopping legs,
Not knowing that on the other side,
A cat holds a quill between his teeth.