Regularly-Batty

The Little Black Bird Along my path of life one day, I saw a bird who seemed astray. His feathers sleek and black as night, Though looked as if he’d crashed mid flight. Through dark and rain, he would not look at me, Though he had eyes as green as the sea. I bent toward him, expecting him to fly. The little bird shivered, but made no reply. I knew it best to leave him be, But he shook and shivered as his little sides heaved. So I scooped him up and took him home with me. Little black bird so fragile and wee. In the spare back room, I made up a bed, And two small dishes so he could be watered and fed. I drew up the blinds,