A Wounded Little Bird.

I saw on the pathway a wounded little bird. Took it carefully kept it warm inside my palms, came home fed it with milk. It was lovely to see it drinking slowly the milk of love i gave. Then kept it safely in a small box in the wool bed and we both slept. The next day i repeated into its ears: fly, fly, fly, learn to fly again. Weeks passed by. Every day we both sang the same song fly, fly, fly, learn to fly again. Today i saw it flying from my room to the wide world of butterflies and birds. Tremendous was my joy. (Graphic: claudia pinilla saved to amazing animals. Pinterest) (i am only sharing my little joys with you my dear poet friends)