Little Bird

Little Bird

A sea of green, blue, brown.
Warm and soft to the touch,
the pile of yarn.

Leaning over I gaze into the box.
He lies there. Chest rising, falling, rising, falling.
Tiny walnut beak gasping for breath.

Rust feathers. Coal feathers.
Eyes red.
I pick you up, your broken leg,
broken wing limp in my hands.

Alone on the forest floor.
Pushed out of your home,
abandoned by family.
Trauma entered your life.
Claimed it.

Finger strokes your spine,
tiny vertebrae perfectly stacked.
Warm, the final feeling.

In my hands you puff up, lift your head.
You shudder.
You’re still.


One thought on “Little Bird

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s