Tiny Turtle Dying Bird Small One Continua

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This morning on the way to work, trying to go slow, mind racing, so much to do,
There in the road something small,
Swerving,
Did I miss . . .?

Hazards on,
blink-blink-blink,
Walking back to find
a tiny turtle, head in, then out, trying to get away,

My hand gently moves it to the grass.

Later in the afternoon, one errand down, and then I will do this and this and this, and then,
in the parking lot, a brown blur, wings flapping, squawking bird,
I pick it up,
small heart and breath pounding against my fingers,

Spot of blood on the neck,
eyes wide at me,
blink-blink-blink,
I don’t know what to do.
I turn in circles, holding hurting bird.

I place it in the shadows of a bush.

Big world leaves me helpless,
small ones cry for care each day.

I saved the turtle but not the bird.
But they called
and today at least
I heard.

~~~~~~

In the evening, a truck sits in the same place I parked,
hazards on,
the turtle I placed in the grass this morning is long gone.

In its place is a car, red and broken, wedged between trees.
An occupant sits on the pavement,
his face, red and broken, wedged between the hands of a man on his knees
who stopped to help.

It is his truck parked where I helped the small one hide.
A woman stumbles from the car.
I hear a child crying inside.

The mountain blocks the cellphone call
So I race home to dial 911.
Above me, pink scars run across the sky.
I see the face of a man who sits where I swerved to miss the small one.

October 3, 2007

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