dead birds.

I.

i noticed them while walking the dogs
three purple bodies
no longer than a thumb
their nest, up turned
yet undisturbed
a few feet away.
april came and left a windy bitch.
i wondered if their mother already knew.

II.

she was standing on the steps of the nail salon with bundled tissues in her hand.
near her sandled feet, a sparrow
laid still.

"i don't think she's dead," she said,
"maybe just cold."

i took the tissues and scooped the little bird who tried to flit her wings.
i ran a knuckle down her neck and back.
her eyes softly settled.

"maybe put her in the flowers," she said, "maybe keep her warm."

i tucked her into the flower bed
my heart was heavy. i headed for coffee.

III.

i can't remember the last time i'd flown.