Memories of a Full Moon

walking outside in the full moon
with a bird on my shoulder,
watching his silhouette climb against
this luminescent orb in deep winter,
settling into a dark tree branch,
his golden breast shimmering in
a frosty night, knowing that death
would soon overtake him, his small
corpse would fall to the earth
shattering into many small pieces,
feathers lofting skyward under the moon
just as my life would fall from its precarious
perch where only by the sheer will of
imagination had it been secured;
the cold breath of winter would take it
all away.