Bathsheba

I saw a bird bathing today,
In a shallow hollow crook of some tree,
Using gathered rain water from yesterday’s rain,
A convenient natural bath-tub,
It flittered through the water, and up out, shook its feathers,
Hovered a bit,
Flittered through the water, and up out, shook its feathers, again
Did this a few times,
A small bird, grey-blackish— nothing memorable,
But for that moment, not longer than a minute, it was glorious,
A being which were it a human,
I, and my four eyes, would have been intruding on private moments.

It’s true I actually saw the bird. The connection to Bathsheba came later in the process of writing