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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=530459" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Bird on the Road</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I watched as a baby bird fell from a tree, <br>Trying to flap its youthful wings, <br>So that it may fly so elegantly.<br>Perhaps like his soaring father<br>Or perhaps like his gliding mother<br>Or perhaps just to feel<br>The wind coursing<br>In between his new<br>Feathers.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The bird landed on an empty street on the other side<br>Of the library parking lot where I was.<br>I watched it stumble up, struggling<br>To stand on its barely-born feet.<br>I heard it chirping—as if to call<br>For someone someplace, distant, <br>Someone who had left it<br>Not so long ago<br>On the road.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The bird's naïve and innocent song fell silent, <br>For only resting notes wrung from the branches.<br>There was no response to the aching plea<br>Of the sweetly-timbered sonata<br>Softly resonating from the bird's<br>Deflating tuft of a chest.<br>No choir or counter-point<br>Chorused to harmonize<br>With its tune.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I looked upon the bird. It appeared so helpless to me<br>And I felt that I should maybe save it<br>If I were not so reserved to simply watch.<br>I do not know how to care for birds, <br>Only to believe that safety should come.<br>I gave my sympathy and my audience.<br>Something intangible told me<br>To leave its fate<br>In nature's hands.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As I pondered about the bird's chances for survival, <br>A bright red sports car plummeted down the road—<br>Speeding past in a blur on the isolated street.<br>Its rubber tires rubbed against the pavement, <br>Squashing the poor baby bird, <br>Flattening it into a single, red stroke<br>Painted and imprinted<br>Into the rough grooves covering<br>The rocky canvas.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I realized that even if I would have risen to assist<br>The lonely and wounded bird, I would have done nothing, <br>But perhaps injure myself in the process.<br>Yet, I was drained and depressed to see the bird vanish<br>Because there was no hope for it. It was forgotten<br>By ev'ryone and ev'rything except for me.<br>The driver did not seem to care; <br>The world did not seem to care, <br>But I did...</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Though I did nothing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Tim+Stensloff">Tim Stensloff</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=530459" data-title="A Bird on the Road de Tim Stensloff" data-description="I watched as a baby bird fell from a tree, 
Trying to flap its youthful wings, 
So that it may fly so elegantly.
Perhaps like his soaring father
Or perhaps like his gliding mother
Or perhaps just to feel
The wind coursing
In between his new
Feathe..."></div>
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