I took this prompt from a contest at FanStory.com.
Write an ode poem about any subject.
Ode to the bird outside my window, who sits and sings
in the early morning
when the light in the spring is like champagne;
bubbly and golden, tickling my back wall with irreverent fingertips.
Ode to the bird who’s built his nest of found and forgotten things
high in the branches of the maple tree that was planted a long time ago
for exactly this purpose.
Ode to he who has kept me cheerful company:
this lonely sparrow, who, miserly, lives away from his fellows in the backyard
and prefers the quietude of my window
to any other scene.
To he, who, above any other, is my companion,
Among seasons warm and cold
With his unchanging and lonely cry.
Who has safeguarded my cozy space
and kept away the blackbirds and the crows
who would otherwise crowd my window
with their black eyes
and unclean feathers.
Although he is not flashy, with his modest plumage,
he sings well,
and satisfied to bask on my windowsill
as I ready myself for the day,
he and I
share the space
Several weeks ago, I was at work, filing brochures and writing things in Excel, when my manager came in from the parking lot.
“There’s a bird in the parking lot,” she said, frantically.
“Yes, that’ll happen,” I replied.
“It’s injured,” she clarified.
Being the intrepid being that I am, I left my coworker to man the desk and went out to rescue said bird.
Now, normally I have a pretty hands-off approach to nature. Nature, in my opinion, is something that can pretty much take care of itself (a lot more efficiently than humans can, in fact.) I am outdoorsy in that I like to drink on the patio, provided that it is nice out and not super buggy. I have been camping, but I have little desire to do it again.
However, being that my manager specifically asked me to do something about the bird, and being that my manager decides whether or not I get paid, I (intrepidly) forayed into the wilds of the parking lot with two plastic bags.
The bird, a robin, was sort of hobbling around and feebly flapping one wing. I caught it fairly easily and managed to get it into a box.
I named him Taco.
My coworkers and I decided he should go up to the local wildlife care center, so I went up there, dropped off Taco, filled out a form and left feeling like a good samaritan.
UNTIL THIS MORNING.
I got a letter in the mail telling me they had to put him down.
THEY KILLED TACO.
WHY would I want to KNOW that??
Hey, remember that bird you saved a few weeks ago that you felt good about and then pretty promptly forgot about? HE DIED. If you’d left him outside, he also would have died, but YOU WOULDN’T GET A MORBID NOTE IN THE MAIL.
ENJOY YOUR DAY, ASSHOLE.