A little bird with broken wing I do(not) want to help

A little bird

With broken wing

I do(not) want to

help hops outside

My door one morning.

Pangs of empathy,

sadness like lightning

from my heart

Into my hand, puts

More tension on the leash.

The two of us curious,

keep a safe distance.

We go inside.

I, to search the internet for

avian veterinarians,

a shoe box,

and maybe some

left over surgical tape.

Him, to eat a biscuit

and clean the fur

between a paw. 

Utterly unhelpful.

When we settle on a plan

I go outside.

It is not on the sidewalk

Or in the grass

It is gone

I feel helpless, impotent,

like a bird

With a broken wing.

Yet even worse,

relieved.