The Baby Starling

When the church bells stopped
and the empty courtyard filled with birdsong
I thought of the baby starling without a tail
that had fluttered into the Italian restaurant

and startled the woman
who spilled minestrone onto her best dress
then threatened to send them the laundry bill
while her friends killed themselves laughing

and the way some children
born in towns, never get to the ocean
and how I could have taken mum
to Vienna one more time. And how

when everything turned out alright again,
you looked at me and said: There, you see?