By the river stood a tree.
A strong solid oak rooted deep.
One day it heard the cry of a wounded sparrow
that had clipped a wing in a vicious fight.
The predators of the night were circling below.
Looking for prey.
The solid oak reached down with a branch
scooping up his new found friend
carrying her into the safety of the sky.
For days they played.
Until the sparrow's wing healed.
And she tested flight and flew away.
Never to return?
The tree felt sadness.
And then betrayal.
And then incredible shame,
as it realized.
The little sparrow could give nothing
that it hadn't already given.
It was the tree
who was in debt.

Labels: Poetry