Rather like
a tiny dressed chicken;
bald,
but warm
as it nestled in my palm,
this blind morsel of life,
muscled out,
its miniature ribcage
expanding and contracting
in a staccato rhythm
slowly diminishing
into my cupped hand
until all its premature vigour
was expended,
and round about,
the hedgerows chirruped
in the summer sunshine.
John H Davies
2nd July 2011
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