Cupped in your hand
breath quivering
the choice is clear,
like glass marked
by a sparrow’s impact.
The heart thrums,
wild and free,
through your fingers.
You gently stroke
tawny feathers,
its neck unbroken,
and then release:
a body rises
through the sky
like dawn unfolding
morning glories.
No birds were harmed during the writing of this poem.
Beautiful.