I found a bird once

 

5861703e-a0d8-4f67-a5ef-c0e0e3fc4748435696050.jpg I was not prepared for all of the creatures that would cross my path as a homeowner. I try to save all of them. The mangy dogs, the bruised and bleeding cats, the school of hard knocks turtles, the recently born squirrel my neighbor brought to me in tears. Yes, I remember all of them. There is a bird that still resides in the nest of my đź–¤

Birds chirp, but this bird was singing like I imagine that “blackbird singing in the dead of night” sang. He was resting in that place between earth and heaven. One of his tiny wings was leaning softly to his side. He was tiny, battered and missing both of his eyes. When I noticed his eyes were missing, my eyes started to cry. It was a cold autumn day. I reached into my hoody and took out a soft tissue. I scooped him up gently and took him to my garage. I placed him on a cozy heating pad I kept around for stray cats looking for a warm place to spend an evening. I tried to give him water through a dropper and I offered him bits of seeds I kept in a feeder outside my patio. He didn’t accept either, but he kept chirping his strange sweet song. I closed my garage door and sat next to him as he died. I don’t know why some memories are grasped so suddenly with such depth of detail, but I know that the experience I had with this little bird will never leave me until I die…until I sing my final song.

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