The Bird, by Tanya Sara Fillbrook

Soaring through blue heavens I could hear the soft cries of a bird alone, plummeting.

It made me forget my woes just for a while; the''spits and spats'' at home, when I realised the bird was in trouble.

I followed, racing to its sure demise as it landed in the evergreen erected in the middle of the heathland.

I tended to its wing, capping her softly and nudging her beak ever so slightly with my finger.

I was intent on making her better so she could be free once more.
She took off again, and I returned home inspired.