harbinger

a young falcon has alighted
on my office windowsill
and there he sits still
more than an hour gone
as if to grace me with goodwill
preening his baby feathers
he puffs up fluffed by breeze
as beady eye upon me turns
and nods his head
in a sort of recognition
of one also on a precipice
for I have of late felt so low and lost
and cheerful grin to grimace turned
but this moment's magic
harbinger, perhaps, of better days to come
has brought me near to weeping
yet through a smile
that such a rare gift
to me was given