First Flight

The young bird hops,

into my open garage.

Head hunched

it studies the veined floor

like a map; lost traveler

cast low from

wooded heights,

and lifts to its mother

a raspy cry.

Too early from the nest

fearful of the sky,

unsure of tender wings,

not able to fly,

it’s helpless.

I want to hold it,

feel its heart

tremble in my gentle hands

return it

to shredded nest,

or,

like a prayer,

cast it high to heaven

and watch it fly

or fall,

but I do nothing

when echoing its mother’s call

the youngster stumbles out the door

and into the still street -

Breathless,

I watch mother bird

diving near

as the fledgling

rises  

into familiar air.