Orange yellowing multicolored graying feathered body.

Long curved beak meant for digging into earth and wood.

On concrete she fell,

Like the moon come down round and full.

Wings spread open,

This wild bird in the middle

Of the wild street.

Fear pulsating her tiny bird heart,

Cars speeding by

Right and left and what else am I to do,

Trembling, as I move between traffic,

Losing touch with my mortality.

 

She, quivering,

In terror of me, a comprehensible danger,

Now that I have come closer to her sudden accident,

Somehow gathers the strength

To drag herself toward

The direction I am not.

 

In this way I guide her,

Brown thrush eyes wide as a barred owl,

Into the underbrush.

 

Susan Lynn Gesmer

© On Concrete

1987-88

Montague, Massachusetts