the beauty

confused
the bird sails
into the window.
her beak pinging
against the glass,
then drops
like a wet rag
to the pavement.
suicide never
crosses your mind,
but you wonder.
with the weather
changing, the clouds
and cold
inching in closer
that perhaps
this bird has had
enough of worms
and bugs,
nests and finding
shelter
when it snows.
if only she had stopped
to see the beauty
in her own reflection.