the sorrow of sparrows
A baby sparrow fell from its nest, too young to fly. Trying so hard to make its immature wings take it back to where it belonged.
Its parents visited regularly, prompting much screeching from the bairn. It was such an honour to see it being fed and cared for so diligently.
We hoped with all this love and attention that it would survive the couple of days needed for it to be able to take flight.
Cat was confined to the house. She sat and eagerly watched from the kitchen window.
We made the garden as safe as we could. There were plenty of cosy nooks for it to shelter.
The overnight weather was looking dry and the temperatures promising. We went to bed with our fingers crossed.
We longed to come down in the morning to hear its hungry cry but sadly, it was not to be.
The father continued to visit throughout the next day. Calling, desperately calling, for his little one.
All of our sparrows have since disappeared. The soundtrack to our days has gone. We long for their return and to hear their lively chatter.
I feel like there is a collective sadness at moment. I don’t think I am simply projecting my own feelings on to others. There is a world full of heartbreak and sorrow.
Each day, I search for the beauty.
