When the 
impressionable
 young pigeon 
slammed into
our big window
(in a wholehearted  response
to your whistle),
he was suspended in full flight:
An imprint of his surprised body left on the glass
in strangely exquisite detail.
A little Shroud of Turin
mapping everything that he was
 at that moment.
He walked away woozily
unaware that he had
cheated death and
 left his mark.