Fledgling

His human cry caged

in a baby bird’s beak

His feathers like fur

denied wind’s brace

His webbed claws

coiled his hobble limbs

Maybe a mother was

bustled in wooded pines

Or a father watched with

his hollow fixed gaze

I turned a blind eye

Still, the child screeched

Daylight is dusk—

I return to the curb

Perhaps nature snatched

the bird’s split string lifespan

His feathers left traces

in the seamless sky

Or a mother returned

nestled warmth in her beak

I see what I know,

grass untampered

dirt unscathed

earth untouched