I awake to a bright and eager
Sunday morning and
open a tin of tuna.The
cats scamper at it's sound
and tails erect ,beg the
door open.
On the patio lay a tiny scrap
of shivering life,oblivious
to it's plight as
it huddles in feathered misery
next to the Tesco
growbag.
I collect and cradle this child
in my giant alien hands
and feel it's fear
course through my body.
Misguidedly, I try to calm
it with a clumsy finger.
The cats lope eagerly as
I make dew feet in the
pristine lawn and under
the stony gaze of a garden gnome
I entrust this innocent life to
a high yew tree.
All day Mother screeches
alarm, and amongst the
noise and safe cacophony
all is well. But red evening
brings purring cats and a
garden of loud silence.
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