Bird

I watched a bird fly by  my window.
I saw it flap its wings and catch the wind.
The sun shining down bounced off its feathers,
Shooting iridescent shards of color at me.
The small body was magnificent,
I admired the way its muscles moved so perfectly.
It sat on the sill, and I heard its song.
A perfect pitch of melodies to serenade me.
As I watched it; it watched me.
Tilting its head sideways, as if to question
My wings of stark white gauze
And my high pitched monotone beeping song
And my broken body
Small and insignificant in the hospital bed.