by Laurie Koensgen

In the knuckled fortress
of my cupped hands
I hold a fallen robin.
Its heart throbs stronger
than its fledgling wings.

I want to be swift
to ease its anguish—
lift it back where it may
still belong.

I too have known
felt my swollen
throat clamped shut
though all around me
brilliant wings were beating
and loosed into the air—
the confetti of wild song.

— from Juniper Volume 3, Issue 2