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Birdie
February 23, 2014
It laid
stagnant by the creek,
our feathered treasure
nice and neat.
My friends
and I to the forest revealed,
our cohorts of hunters,
stalking its meal.
“Got-ya birdie!”
I proudly declared
as my caked hands reached, and
snatched like a snare.
Wild as
it was, I did not let it crawl,
this precious prisoner
was our only haul.
“Run back home!”
for I feared my hands would slip,
releasing the baby beast
from my grip.
Dirty feet
through rushing foam,
The hooligans made their way
back home.
© Stephanie X., Seekonk, MA
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