Snow Ptarmigan

I retrieve birds

In my sleep.

Some are whole memories,

Most are partial at best.

At two and three and four in the morning

The snow ptarmigan

Comes to mind

In winter plumage.

It hides in the snow.

I can barely see

Its outline.

There are birds

In my sleep,

Whole birds,

Birds I have never seen

When I am awake.

They remind me of their presence

So I can find them in the bird book
When I wake.