Stormy Night

June 22, 1995

In the terrible wind a small bird

hit my dashboard.

Stopping my car by the marsh,

I searched through thorny brambles

until I found the slight, unworldly beast.

It swiftly shivered in my palm.

So I sat for an hour, not wanting to let her go -

the air turning colder and colder, my hair getting more and more tangled,

until I was sure -

and laying her on a soft patch of gray reindeer lichen

by the gully of furious water -

I waited until I was certain.

Until I knew.