Damaged Wing

From where the bird came, I do not know. I suddenly saw him, that beautiful crow. With a wing badly damaged, he pottered along, He could not fly far, or sing his song. I placed fresh seed and water out there ~ He fluttered a little way up in the air, And settled on top of an old rustic seat Where he stayed all day in the sultry heat. At the late hour, in the sunset's glow I searched high and low for my beautiful crow. All the next day, until evening's end... And I could find no sign of my feathered friend. But on the new morn ~ what did I see? Lying in my bird-bath quite comfortably, A beautiful crow, as lame as could be, Recovering in silence, he came back to me. Alas and behold! He is missing again ~ Fully recovered, he has flown faraway.