Broken Wing

Broken Wing Creature, black, feathered kind, stealthy, deft, on ledge did find, hid in fear behind broken wing he did not fly nor song did sing. Window, sashed, did open wide, blackbird trembling, brought inside, wing did strap with stick and lint, that brought to eye a grateful glint. On wrist did sit, tipped back head, on bread and milk with finger fed, for many days did tend him well until he told me how he fell. Did trap himself in poachers snare, meant for rabbit, meant for hare, his life to end was soon to be so broke own wing to set self free. In panic flew, so high, so fast, did crash into invisible glass, could not sing nor fly again, did think to die on window pane. To blackbird said " we built a city, for those who fly and crawl, no pity, with traps and glass, bombs and guns we break the wings of our little ones" His head did drop to cry in sadness, to live and die at the whim of madness, then sat on sill to grieve the view, did close the window and away he flew.