Timorous Wee Beastie

oh, pretty thing,
don’t be shy – your timid
fluttering only
stirs the morbid soul –
oscillations will provoke
the timbre of your song

let moon strokes please
your stiffened shadow
and soften those feathers
like nettles – irked but
tender at heart, and once
all smoothed
you will become undisturbed,
silent and brushed

let soothing balm
on charmed, silver fingertips
press against delicate
vibrations, until
echoes of calm cadence
pulsates, and beats with your will
to be still.