An Ode to the Bird who Flies in my Head

An ode to the bird who flies in my head
Who swoops forward and back with ease
And was compressed too soon in a squeeze
She tends towards the right when she remembers old frights
And when her wings spread into now she expands somehow
Then she seems too big for the doorway, but gets through anyway.

An ode to the bird who flies in my head
Some say she’s a butterfly
And you can see why 
As delicate and intricate for sure
Some say she’s a bat
She can surely be seen as that
But I don’t do upside down
So I’ll call her a bird
While I marvel at her wings
And how she sits perched in the center
Holding the pituitary gland of all things!

An ode to the bird who flies in my head
She is the gateway for a river of nerves
She can get up and go, she’s got the verve
But when she’s quiet
And leans forward into the stillness
My whole body takes a renewing drink
From the center of ancient well

We’ve all got a bird in the center of our heads
Or a butterfly or bat if you prefer that
She’s called the Sphenoid
Which comes from words that mean a thing like a wedge
A bend in time and space
Which we all embrace
As an opening in our inner space
A wise winged one of delicate precision
She is cradling your eyes right now
Give her your attention
Listen for her song

An ode to the bird who flies in my head
May your song sing bright for many a day
Thank you for being built just your way
For swooping back and forth with ease
And managing that tight squeeze
I am grateful for all you know
And how from my head you support me
All the way to my toes.

©Margaret Rosenau, 2023