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.