A Little Bird Poem by Owen Cullimore

A little bird flew into my garden
It was a Robin I think
Lands on my bird table and sits in the water
To bathe and to have a drink
Oblivious at first
To any other thing
Seemed to be enjoying himself
Fluttering his damaged wing
He had obviously been hurt
In some mishap or a scrap
And was taking advantage
Of the water laid on tap
But lurking in the undergrowth
Was Blue, next doors cat, an English Grey
Whose was thinking to himself no doubt?
To catch our robin redbreast
Before he flew away
So stealthily creeping nearer
As our little friend did rest
Oblivious to the danger he was in
So far away from his safe nest
But I need not have been worried
Because when the cat did pounce from off the floor
Our Robin was more alert than I thought
And flew in through my door
Standing on my kitchen table
He looked a funny sight

With one wing barely moveable
As he twittered by the light
I put out my hand and he jumped on
As if to say, I know I will be all right
Then I bathed his little damaged wing
And used matchsticks as struts to mend the break
Then bandaged it all up together
A real injured soldier did he make
He stayed indoors with me for almost a week
Sleeping in a box underneath the stairs
His injuries keeping him in a sedate mood
Until, I removed his temporary repairs
Then he flapped his wings and chirped away
So, I opened up the door
And he flew away so majestically
Sadly for me, to be seen no more