at some point in his life the bird will go limp
and cold. he will lose
all of his feathers
forget
his two mothers. never
chirp
again amid nights
now quiet
dead. still.
at some point the bird will remember
that it is not easy to fly.
he will fall into puddles
get his feathers ripped out
by bugs and strange critters, who do not like
the color
of his eyes.
in himself, he will find love.
but today, the bird has just left
a tiny shell
behind
he is still a little green thing to be held, and forgotten
harmless—
in the face
ofthe earth.
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