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.