a small white bird falls
from the trees
and lands
silently in the forest

sticks for legs
it looks lost

among these
thick, old stumps

there is a gentleness
in the way it moves

eyes weigh each step
scared of breaking

always on the verge of tears

the bird looks up
trying to find a way to escape

but the sky is closed
dark with green summer while

orange and black creatures
scurry under rocks

soft-bellied aliens

they must be able to
speak to each other
but not to the bird

so the skinny-legged bird
wanders alone
through the old woods

too big to fit under rocks
not big enough to fly