The wild blackbird
had a huge wound
where feathers should be
on his back
was his attacker
a once friendly beak
a bat
or maybe even a cat
the little bird
lay on his chest
splayed out
open to the sun's hot rays
to heal him.
P.S. My little mate is alive and well frollicking in the leaves.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem