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why baby birds never die, 2






She knelt down, her little sun dress, toes splayed from beneath the hem as she wept, shoulders trembling, one long tear  trailed through play time dirt on her left  cheek. Her father knelt down beside her and they sighed together at the lifeless sparrow. 

He kissed her curls, rocked her in his arms.

“I know,” her quiet whisper shimmered, “it lives in the sky yesterday.”  He put his head on top of hers, shook. 

She moaned low, tremulous sobs. “I see it.”







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