One day I saw a bird Who fell out of its tree Its mother didn’t notice And its siblings let her be I picked the fallen bird up Rested it on its side I noticed its broken wing And knew it wanted to die But I ignored that gleam I put it between some bushes I made it a home; a cap of water in it And I only hoped nothing would push it I returned the next hour With my father in tow But the bird was not breathing I cried, “Oh-no!” It laid deep in the cap Its beak drinking water through its nose Its eyes glossed over in peace As though taking a doze “It fell; what luck,” my father muttered He left me to stand by the dead bird No, thought, it didn’t fall It pushed itself, as though it was what it deserved I grabbed the bird once more No tears in my eyes to fall I tossed the limp body with the broken wings And watched them spread without a brawl I cried “Dead bird fly—“ And it did Its soul flew across the sky *** _(This is a poem I’m using for a story I’m writing for fun called DEAD BIRD FLY. Yes, I made this)_