He was a prototype
made with leftover yarn
from a new pattern
by a knitter who hadn’t used four needles in months.
He’s got holes, poor thing,
where his innards (fluffy and white they may be)
come out in little tufts.
The needles were a size too big.
No sound comes from his perfectly pointed beak,
and his feathers are not nearly as cheerful
as the bright red birds made for Christmas.
He sits and gathers dust, poor thing,
but he’s great for a quick squeeze
– a hug, if you need one.
He matches the birds on the wall,
so he’s pretty content,