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)_