The Baby Bird

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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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