Why did I assume

I found myself 
Sprawled across the lawn
Because at the moment
I have time to spare
The dirt slightly chilling
My sweatshirt
The wind huffing
cool fingertips
on my forehead
The laundry machine
a humming cicada
in the back of my mind
The sky
a stripe of summer
above my eyes
I follow a plane
with my nose
tiny hole
in the backdrop
but as it bullets closer
I realize
it is not a plane
it is a bird
cutting through the frost
without a drone
or a sputter
wind kissing
feathers
not wings of metal
not some flying machine
Spearheading the mist
Spinning clouds in its wake
this is a bird
claw-tipped feet
shrinking under 
leaves of black
this is a bird
careening down 
an invisible slope
making silent turns
a plane never could
shadow hunter
proving that it was here first
and it will be here last
and though winged creatures 
come like seashells
hugging the sky
I could not help assuming
it was a plane
striping my forehead
I watch it fly away
on muscle
not steel
sprawled on the frosted grass
with time to spend
I think to myself

that was a bird