One Single Impression: Migration
I was wakened early one fall morning
by the strangest ruckus I'd ever heard.
Nothing was there to see when I appeared
except this forlorn lonely little bird.
He was lying on the lawn, near the bush
where the old grey ringneck dove makes her nest.
Took him for dead, I went for my shovel.
In the garden I'd dig his final rest.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw,
I saw his blinking, blinking teary eye.
So tired was he, love of the living God.
Poor little creature fallen from the sky.
He'd lost his way, fell away from the skein.
He couldn't keep up 'cause he was so small.
The other young birds were strong and healthy,
but late in time he was born in the fall.
I carried that young one into my home,
fed and nourished him with birdseed and worms.
Exercise and sleep now primed for release.
Come spring he'll join his kind, the flock returns.
Please wish him well as this is not the norm,
birds in captivity making the grade.
Wish him to live happy ever after,
with his folks. No longer here in his cage.
Copyright © 2009 Jimmiehov
All Rights Reserved
"Migration" as prompt was
suggested by Gabrielle at Wild Goose Scoops Moon