the world is such a complicated thing.

you must be willing to get injured.

one day i slunk along a path
that led to whoknowswhere,
forgetting all my mother's wrath
and abandoning her care.
the sun was gold, the roses pink,
the dirt was packed down tight
on a path that traveled to the brink
of a copse immersed in light.
i perched a moment, pausing there
outside the verdant scene,
and breathed in sweetly scented air,
touched grasses, lush and lean.
a few steps more and i could be
part of that peaceful view,
yet something made me wait to see
and contemplate and brood.
as i considered wading in
a movement caught my eye,
a tiny sparrow and her kin
hopped out, leapt up, to fly.
the chicks were still unsteady
on their newly feathered wings
that spread and flapped, unready
to support the new fledglings.
the little sparrows squawked and strained
and struggled to attain
the elegance that was ingrained
in blood and bone and brain.
of six, just five whirled into air
and left one far behind,
and dove upwards without a care
as the sixth rebuked his kind.
the lonely sixth did struggle back
and forth along the trees,
when one missed hop threw him off track
and onto my bent knees.
a shrewd young eye then studied me,
the claws caught on my skin,
and he chirped then looked back to see
what had happened to his kin.
my heart beat hard with eagerness
to touch and know this bird,
the blood was pounding with a stress
and a speed the sparrow heard.
he cocked his head and winked his eye
then spread his fragile wings
and took off to the empty sky
where all his brothers sing.
so i stayed crouched outside the grove
and watched them fly awhile,
a multitude that played in droves
and splayed an aerial mile.