As I was at a neighbor's house
Asking for a ladder
A mother robin landed close behind
Looking as if something was the matter
"I have not threatened you"
Thought I in my peaceful way
And before I had turned back again,
She had flown away.
It was on the way back down the path
We met her baby bird
It had fallen from its nest
And not a cry had been heard
I contemplated softly
As the shock was closing in
Of how birds mourn in silence
The dying of their kin.
The little one was raw and pink
Not a feather to be seen
I poked it gentle, "Wake up little one!"
Its skin was clear and clean
For that at least I was grateful
That there had been no gruesome gore
But faced with this small body
I knew I must do more.
That little soul tugged deeply
On my own that day
And so I became the ferrier
To its resting place
With shroud of clean white paper
And garden trowel did I
Dig its tiny resting place
With a dappled view of the sky.
Now, Mrs. Robin, do not fret
For your little one,
For now it flies with angels
Way up near the sun.
