A flowered, timidly small bird I passed,
limp and shivering on the unforgiving asphalt
echoed within me all of which he never had
with his creaking sepia beak
through his lungs, out his throat.

He peeped feebly to plead me to lean closer,
I obeyed, slowly kneeling,
as to never disturb this creation.

He projects the coasts of Indonesia
to tell me how he so wished to dip his wings in its pristine water bodies,
He carries me through the forbidden treetops of the Amazon
withering over each exotic insect he never tasted,
He cradles me over the mighty Atlantic until we reach Australia
pointing toward each kangaroo and dingo he never spoke with,
And lastly he showed me the family he never followed
to warmer worlds, blanketed from winter’s rickety breath,
too afraid to conquer the blustery heights above.
Which led him to this moment, waiting for their return on this sidewalk,
losing feeling with each escaping tendril of life.

He spread himself to reach towards my face.
As I lower to make contact with his damp and disheveled wings
I feel each feather individually sweep my cheeks
as he died weepy and swollen in grief,
turning my skin pink with shame, because
we all lie hypothermic on the sidewalk, too timid to take the first flight.
And I, a fledgling,
have many miles left to pilot before the Floridian warmth will comfort me
in endless palm tree affection,
kissed by the fragrant shoreline.