with a wounded wing.
I watched as it slowly
started to sing.
Was it calling for help?
Or making a sign.
That this bird was clumsy
and drank too much wine.
Other birds came
they sat on the ground.
Then there were others
looking around.
They all started singing
helping along.
This bird didn't stop them
he sang their soft song.
All was soon well
he then flew away.
I knew he would never
choose to come stay.
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