Entangled

The baby bird on the sidewalk
all mouth and huge eye,
its skin bare and featherless,
moved its legs, tried to turn,
as we were walking by
I picked it warily up.
So tiny, and nakedly needy,
not yet charming or lovely.

The Vet was near and open.
She opened her palm to receive
the struggling little life
so clearly near its end.
To end its labor softly,
she injected anesthetic.
We stood together in silence
respecting death’s approach.

As it gave up breath and life,
the baby bird was cradled
in a living palm.
While we waited in stillness,
time did not exist.
When it was done, the gentle doctor
laid the bird on whitest gauze
and handed it to me.

We walked to my garden
as if in slow procession.
The Plumeria seemed to ask,
and so we buried the baby bird
under the sweet-smelling tree
just opening its first spring blossoms,
and set a smooth white rock
to mark its life and passage.

Am I not as vulnerable,
as nakedly needy, not always charming?
I witnessed this life on its way
to something else, another form,
as I trust someone will do for me.
I am entangled in the mysterious web
with this bird that never flew
but knew a kindness while it lived.

©Susa Silvermarie 2026

with thanks to my neighbor Kelly