Captain (with new version!)

A variation on “Those Winter Sundays” by Robert Hayden

Summers also Captain woke early
And cawed his beak off in the early dawn
Then with soft chirps that soothed
From grogginess in the lazy morning, made
Sleepy eyes open. Mike never thanked him.

Captain would sit and dream of the day opening, unfolding.
When his cage was opened he’d float
And flutter. Mike could cook and clean,
Knowing the resulting freedoms of that schedule,

Calling furiously at Captain
Who had knocked over the vase
And nudged all the picture frames as well
What did Mike know, what did Mike know
Of friendship’s veiled and subtle avenues?

---

In summertime especially, Captain woke early
with a chirp and a wrraawk! that shook the blinds.
Mike would wake, grey sheets over eyes
that refused to give in without a fight.
Morning moans battled beating wings,
but Captain’s wake up call was triumphant.
Mike never thanked him.

When Captain’s cage was opened he’d hop around,
warm up laps for the final show,
then take off in wide circles.
Mike would cook breakfast for them both,
clean the dishes he had left from the night before,
and call furiously at Captain,
who had tipped over the vase
and nudged all the picture frames just so—
especially that picture of Karen
the one with the white dress, from last August—
as if to say “Where did she go?”
And Mike would stop washing the dishes.
He would stop, and considering the magnitude of things,
he would cry.