Little bird

I am in the back garden of the house where I grew up and have a big cardboard box. The box is a house for a little bird (maybe a sparrow, or a wren?) that I have. The box has gone all soggy and is sagging, I am trying to sort it out, to make little bird more comfy.

As I am doing so, little bird flies out and escapes, she flies off through an open kitchen window and into the house. My mom (a faded chimera of her and not her 'real' spirit) says we should shut the kitchen window to trap little bird inside.

I consider this for a while, but in my minds eye I see little bird flying for freedom and crashing fatally into the now closed kitchen window so I say "no", it is ok and she will come back to me. At that minute little bird flies out into the sky and circles around.

I hold out my hand and she comes down to rest in it. I feel her little pulsating body and realise that she is cold and so cup my hands around her - she flutters gratefully in my hands for my warmth and care. I look at the soggy nox and think "of course, yes, it is so soggy and damp, and I have put in no materials to make her feel comfy".

I realise that if I line the box with soft things and put in food to eat, that little bird can be free to fly round yet will always return to my care. It is simply a matter of warmth, care, nutrition and a little bit of trust.