Sugar Bird

Another beautiful day. We're going diving.

The little black bird with the bright yellow breast stood on the glass-topped patio table, its delicate feet spread, its bright eye seeming to judge how far Mona could be trusted. It turned its head from side to side, long tongue flicking in and out of its curved narrow beak, working up the courage to scoop up the grains of sugar Mona had spilled when sweetening her tea. “Come on, little bird,” she said, “I won’t hurt you.” She picked up her cup, which caused the bird to fly to the safety of a nearby palm, sitting on a frond chattering its displeasure. But fear didn’t keep the small Bananaquit from getting what it wanted for long. She made up her mind to be more like it from then on.

--Barbara