You are currently browsing the daily archive for June 5, 2008.
There was a hollow thump.
I looked out through the dirty sliding glass door to see a small brown bird hanging from the rosemary bush sitting on the porch, on the other side of the door.
It fell.
Its sitting on the weathered grey deck now, breathing rapidly. blinking, trying to open it’s eyes. It hasn’t moved from the place where it fell. It’s awkwardly placed feet don’t as much as twitch, and its neatly folded wings are motionless.
There’s birds chirping, unseen. Maybe they’re calling it, the little brown bird is silent.
It’s breathing doesn’t slow, but gets heavier. It makes a small movement with it’s head, as if swallowing, and turns it’s head. Eyes closed.
I wonder if it’s scared. When I touch it’s delicate body it shows no signs of recognition. It is still.
A tiny shiver runs through it’s body.
I feel cold.
