Learning to Fly

The other day
a bird fell from the sky
and landed on the ground right in front of me.
I screamed
Oh no! We have to save him!
And Shannon said
No Mom, just leave him alone.
You have to let nature take its course.

I watched his delicate chest heaving.
I stood transfixed on his tiny heart pulsing out a frantic beat,
until I was startled
by screeching sounds above me.
I looked up to see his mother, hopping on branches, screaming.
I wondered if he heard her
calling out for him
as he breathed his last sweet breath.

I was walking Shannon to the corner.
I stopped for just a moment to say good morning
to the crossing guard.
I heard Shannon say good morning too,
but when I turned toward her a second later, she was gone.

I called her name,
and then called again louder, my arms in the air, waving frantically.
But I’m sure she couldn’t hear me
over the pulsing beat in her headphones.
I watched her for a moment
as she flew up the hill, never looking back.
And I turned to walk downhill, alone,
in silence.


Goodbye, little bird.

Pink Floyd, Learning to Fly


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