the witness

in the yard today
tending
to the
bogenvia

i came across a small
grayish-brown
bird-
wing broken
hiding in the undergrowth.

i startled him
and he i.
he flopped around a bit
frightened,
having lost his
solitude.

in the sighing summer heat
i watched him, exposed
flopping,
helplessly awaiting
the one thing
that awaits us all.

there was nothing i could do
for him, but
be his witness.

it made me
sad.
not because of the dying,
but because of my own

exposed

helplessness.