Just An Injured Hen Sparrow
Some years ago, but the first line will always, sadly, make it seem of the present.
With the world consumed by misery,
it was no great shakes.
Just an injured hen sparrow
that my son brought home.
'Can we teach her to fly, dad?'
No, of course we couldn't.
She was the wrong side of a cat's amusement,
but he didn't need to know that.
So we soaked some bread in water,
and dripped it into her beak.
She flicked her head,
more from the shock of the water
than an act of resuscitation.
'Look, dad, she's getting better, isn't she?'
'Well, she seems to be, son.'
She was dead before he found her,
I knew that.
But I warmed deeply to his kindness,
and envied him his faith.
Copyright © Jonathan French | Year Posted 2017