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The sparrow fell into the water, floundering, drowning.
I stared as its desperate ebony eyes locked with mine.
I knelt at the edge of the pool, uncertain.
My knees sunk into the muck and moss,
as I reached out,
grasping for the tiny life.
Without a sound, it slipped under the surface,
bubbles popping among the waves.
Trembling, I was left kneeling in the grove,
trunks and leaves shrouding my path to freedom in darkness.
More feathered beasts perched silently among the trees’ outstretched branches,
ominous sentinels in the murky forest.
I bit my lips anxiously and stood to face them.
I could feel them glancing at the water,
where their brethren had fallen,
now reduced to a sunken mass of feathers and bone.
Yet, the throng of birds remained silent,
untouched by both the damp,
and the death.
My heart pumping painfully, I took a step forward,
tempted to make a desperate escape.
They clicked their beaks in warning,
the snaps sharp and fiery,
penetrating our dome of quiet.
Stealing courage, I took another step.
The blunt cracks contorted into deafening screeches,
forcing my body backwards.
I tried in vain to cover my ears,
and block out the cursed, unrelenting sound.
Mouth opening in a silent wail,
I fell back to the ground,
where I lay,
until I had the strength to try again.
I refused to drown akin to the sparrow.