Last night,

as I was leaving seminary

I saw the bird there,

huddled on the ground -

no obvious injuries,

dazed and a bit stunned.

Birds fly into the windows

frequently.

Sometimes they are stunned,

sometimes they die instantly,

sometimes they end up here,

huddled on the ground.

I couldn’t leave her on the concrete.

She couldn’t fly away.

Perhaps she knew I wasn’t going to hurt her,

as she didn’t try to get away.

She had pretty feathers,

she had pretty eyes,

she had a calm expression,

a gentle spirit.

She must have looked wonderful in flight.

But here she was;

she couldn’t fly,

she couldn’t even really stand.

I got a box from inside

and scooped her up.

I live an hour away

and have a friend who might help.

We drove along,

the usual radio noise silenced.

I talked gently to my feathered passenger.

She sat in the box.

She listened.

I worried what I would do if I couldn’t reach my friend,

I worried about how I would take care of a bird.

How would my cats react to this intruder?

The bird said not word

as we drove into the night.

I said little silent prayers

and hoped God would listen,

and at one point God did.

My beautiful bird gave a short sweet sound,

closed her eyes and moved no more.

God brought his precious creature home.

I no longer had to worry about helping.

The little sound was not goodbye,

it was not thank you,

it was not meant for me.

I knew there were birds in the world

as we all do

but I had never known this bird was in the world

and now, she is no longer.

Her last moments were spent with me,

riding in the dark car,

safe from animals or others who might do harm;

she didn’t even know me

and that is just as well.

I hope she’s flying safely now

where glass will never fool her

where her songs may continue,

and I hope that one day I will hear them

and see her

so that I may say thank you to her.