Watch by the Glass

I found a steady route up from the floor to the low windowsill. The glass was cool beneath my palm. Outside on the iron railing, a brown sparrow landed with a quick flutter. It shook its feathers twice. I raised my green binoculars and held my footing, careful not to tap the glass. Through the round lenses, every fold of its wings stood sharp in the dusk light. It tilted its head, peering into the dim room. We held a quiet watch together until it flew off toward the eaves.