The bird hits my windshield.
“Oh no!” I exclaim,
as its fluffy little body
launches upward
and then plummets to the pavement.

My heart clenches,
but I call inward to the Source.
“What do I do?”

The message comes fast.
“Get the bird.”

I turn the car around,
drive back, searching,
see a little lump on the road.

I pull over in a barely side lane,
jump out,
find the little one still breathing!

With my gloves, I gently lift her,
unconscious, limp.

Traffic stops as I take her to the car,
place her on the passenger seat.

I drive home, my mind conjuring a plan:
Put her in a box, hope she is just stunned
and will fly again.

But as I drive
her body simply rocks
as though lifeless.

“Thy will,” I chant.
If she is to live, she will,
if not, not.

She is an eternal soul
soaring on Divine love currents,
but I will do all I can to help.

I turn onto our dirt road.
Maybe she moved her head.
Did she move her head?

My heart speeds up
as I see that yes, she’s awake.
Alive!

I park the car,
turn off the motor
and she flutters her wings,
just a bit.

“Oh little one,
yes, you can do it,”
I say to her.

More flapping,
and then she slips off the seat,
flutters around on the floor.

Then she flies to the back hatch
where she tries to break free.

I know I can’t let her loose here,
at this high elevation,
so I start the engine and carefully drive,
not sure where.

“Where do I go?” I ask on high.

“To the sanctuary!”
The idea seems perfect.

Not too far away
and at a lower altitude,
closer to where I picked her up.

I arrive at the place,
acres of grass,
lots of trees.

I park the car
and open the hatch.

At first she doesn’t see
the freedom that awaits.

She clings to the hatch,
but then she looks to the opening,
flaps her wings,
zips out and up
to a crabapple branch.

She lifts her little beak.
“Chirp, chirp,” she sings,
a song of joy,
a celebration of life.

Photo credit: Rhododendrites, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons