Is A Bird Just A Bird

The smell of the chicken barbequing filled our noses,

More pungent than the perfume of the garden’s roses,

And even me the vegequarian must admit to you,

That it got my salivary glands working too,

The food was ready and we sat down to eat,

The food in our mouths, the pleasure complete,

When we noticed a bird not the one on the plate,

But another sitting on the grass in a bit of a state,

It could not fly we saw as it flapped its wings,

Something was wrong with its flying things,

Oh no we have to do something the kids wailed,

But Super dad David’s attempts at first aid failed,

Forget it, eat up there is chicken to be eaten,

But the boys would not give up, would not be beaten,

While I contemplated this strange birdy state of affairs,

I found the number of the bird man upstairs,

This saver of feathered creatures came and took the fledgling away,

Assuring us he’d save it so that it could fly and play,

Although I knew we had helped one bird keep its life,

I could not ignore the other, the chicken we’d cut up with a knife,

And I wondered perplexed why my family had not seen the correlation,

Between the bird that they had eaten and its wounded relation.

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