The Baby Bird



This piece is reflective of and inspired by what is presently happening now (estimate 20 minutes before the upload time)

There is a baby bird on my shoulder, 

    like Saint Francis used to have

Or still does, if statues or stories are timeless.


Breathing less rapidly now.


It trusted me in less than 2 minutes, 

    terrified of the cat

    but its only defense:

    opening its mouth for food. 

    How unlike anything.


Nature doesn't have to teach this innocence.


I worry for its mother and father, 

    because this bird will be healed

    but returning her (or him) is unlikely, 

    even if walking around for hours.


Precious life.


Today, for today, 

    I am a bird's Father.


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