I held a bird in my hand today
It was small and soft and tiny
It felt warm and fragile in my palm
Its bright green feathers were so shiny
I held a bird in my hand today
It had just let out its last breath
I felt the warmth slowly leaving its body
A innocent life sentenced to death
I held a bird in my hand today
And I struggled hard not to cry
The bird had landed at birders feet
As if it had chosen where to die
I held a bird in my hand today
It doesn't make for a happy story
A single bullet took its life
A poor victim to some men's folly
I held a bird in my hand today
It has been hours, but my tears still fall
My sadness is laced with rising anger
There is no logic to this at all...
(I'll write more about what happened to this poor Philippine Hanging Parrot when I'm not so weepy anymore...)
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