Vermillion Flycatcher

There are days, I’m a bird

Capable of flight

Have my wings extended

So far the stretch tingles

The feathers of red and brown.

For I am a three inch Roma tomato

Flying with brown feathers

Attached, growing

On round fat sides;

Flittering through the cottonwoods

Turning yellow, gold and orange

With the cold of the autumn nights

Approaching quickly along the banks

Of dry Southwestern rivers.

Dry as bones picked clean by vultures

Cold as only an Arizona night can become.

Sara Fryd