and rowed him softer home

 

 

 

 

the old birdhouse was stuffed with sticks and feathers
at first glance she thought it was a dried milkweed pod

how fragile
this baby wren

she gently cradled him in her hands
and placed him on a branch
where he had room to spread his tiny wings
and fly home

 

 

 

 

 

feeling fragile

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“later that night
i held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
and whispered
where does it hurt?

it answered
everywhere
everywhere
everywhere.”

~ Warsan Shire