he buried a wee bird in his
backyard today under a sun penetrating the grey mist of a lying sky
thered be no rain
it was
California
he found the little beast on his
front porch last year
it had been batted aboutfeathers scatteredbirdshit
smeared by two ferals who cornered it between the front wall of his house and a
bushel basket
the bushel basket he laid a blanket in for the comfort of one of the
cats seven years ago
much can be made of wild instincts
Yes words came and stuck in his earsWalk
away This is hopeless This is Natural Walk away
he didnt heed his advisecouldnt help himselfhe
interceded he scooped the bird up
it collapsed in his hands without fret
it was small a nestling perhaps
fallen out what struck him was how large
its feet were
he carried it inside the house
and placed it in a shoebox and set it atop of his refrigerator uncovered he set inside it a small shallow pan filled
with water then
went back outside and walked the perimeter of his yard beneath the trees
surrounding his house looking for a nest or for anxious birdsdistraught parents or a hen
it was fruitless
returning to the house he found
three of his indoor cats prowling around an upholstered chair just inside and
left of the front door
he draped a Mexican blanket over it because it was a threadbare seventy years old a mustardcoloured swiveledrocking chair he held his girls in
when they were babes
he didnt let memories escape easily
beneath the chair he found the
nestling
it leapt from on top the frig to
the linoleum six feet below and either found its way beneath the chair or found
it haven to escape his cats
the later he assumed
there was a
smattering of birdshit and feathers as evidence
it collapsed again in the hold of
his hands as he scooped it up
he went outside directly
handcuffed responsible
the nestling shook uncontrollably
he could relate
at least he had a jackknife to defend
himself
he slashed at hands and arms
had they come nearer he would
have stabbed
they back away
they said theyd remember
himremember his face
asif hed forget theirs
the nestling trembling the whole time suddenlyspasmed rolled
fitfully onto its backarched threefour times
and died
died
he wept at its hopelessness
wept
that it didnt have a knife to defend itself
2330, Thursday,
17 12. 20
1123, Saturday,
19 12. 20
