Kristy Webster-Milton


I'm embarrassed about the bird,

Trapped inside the store window,
how I reached out to grab it
without thinking,
how I assumed her injured,
How I jumped when she flew
to the top shelf
to blend in with books
about redemption, addiction,
and lastly,
books about love,
A more patient woman, one whose
wisdom told her the sparrow
had only taken a wrong turn,
flung off her sweater like a magician,
threw it over the bird,
captured her then
set her free.
I shrunk in clumsy shame that
I’d confused being a little lost
with being terribly broken.

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