Knock, Knock: The Bird at the Window
“Little bird, where are you?”
Each night, after the stars flickered awake,
a small bird with bright blue feathers
tapped gently at the glass of a baby’s room.
Knock, knock—
not loud, not harsh,
only a soft rhythm of longing.
It was a solitary bird,
misunderstood by the world.
While others flew in flocks,
he remained alone,
carrying something inside
that song could not explain.
Through the lit window, he saw warmth:
a family gathered in yellow light,
a baby sleeping in the crib,
a girl with wide, curious eyes.
She was not afraid.
She did not chase him away.
She simply watched.
And he came.
Night after night.
Knock, knock.
Her smile.
His tilted head.
For a few moments
they were companions in silence.
But the parents saw danger.
Curtains were drawn,
animal control called,
and he fled to the tallest tree, hiding beneath the moon.
That night she waited.
He did not come.
Her hand pressed to the glass—
“Little bird, where are you?”
Years passed.
The girl grew.
Curtains changed, colours shifted, but never again that waiting gaze returned.
One spring afternoon, he perched on a wire.
Below, a woman pushed a pram.
He called. She looked up.
Something lit her face—
a memory, perhaps,
or only the sun.
He tapped once on the post.
Knock. She smiled.
And he felt again
the quiet warmth of being understood.
About the Creator
Isabel Fontes
Portuguese writer in London, chasing stories across borders.
Words roam Portugal, Brazil, Argentina, Spain & the UK.
Creator of À Conversa Com — from Galveias to TV.
Co-creator of Jazz’n’Poesia.
In a collective where words meet images.
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Comments (2)
Aqui está mais um belíssimo poema, Isabel. Ao longo da sua carreira literária, você tem construído uma literatura de altíssima qualidade com sua voz própria e inconfundível. É impossível passar pela sua escrita e não se sentir tocado. Tenho o prazer e o privilégio de acompanhar de perto seu crescimento e amadurecimento. Sua voz hoje é necessária no cenário literário. Obrigado, Isabel. Gleidston César
What a beautiful story – gentle, timeless, and quietly profound. It reminds me a little of the writing of Elizabeth Strout, one of my favourite contemporary authors.