Rescuing is a goodness of its own

 

The dog had woken and was restless

And you said in the dark it’s an owl

Of course the dog knew differently

And persisted licking the fingers

Of my hand to waken me

Out of that place of deep darkness.

I followed her down over the stairs

And saw the cat play with the bird

And then dart away from the fluttering

In the curtain and the distressed sound

Of a small bird alone and confused

I took it in a quick actioned grasp

And felt its heart beating fast

In the darkness I felt its wings

And stretched each leg to ascertain

That none of those small bones

Were bitten through or broken

Then I let it loose and heard it flutter

And it flew away into the darkness.

Rescuing is a goodness of its own.

 

 

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