Wounded Bird
Missed Connections from Vermont
Little wounded bird, my car it did hurt.
I stopped to see you fluttering, flapping around.
I got a shovel and knocked you from grill
to the ground.
Little red robin, you will not go bobbin.
Your heart I did break and your poor little brain
fell out a floppin.
Such great sadness in your death.
Small and frail; my heart was broken once but beats again to sail, soar, fly above the trees,
like I wish you could be but
-no more.
Her Two Cents
Over the summer I struck and killed a very large crow feeding on an animal carcass in the middle of the Massachusetts Turnpike. In all my years of driving, I’ve always found birds to be the best at getting out of the way of oncoming vehicles. When I spotted the bird up ahead, I wasn’t immediately able to switch lanes and assumed that as I approached he’d fly off – but that didn’t happen and I soon heard a soft thump on the front of my car. Needless to say, it was an unsettling experience and one I won’t ever forget. Accidents happen, but perhaps there’s greater attribution to our individual actions and reactions than we’d like to believe.
