His love for birds

Every day he watched
the birds at play
Chirping and searching for food.
He never missed it
His daily routine
It helped free his soul.


The day neared end
He returned home
Taking the underground train
Two men before him
Spoke of business
While most others were silent.

From no where came
A lone bird
Flying around the car
Confused and alone
Disoriented and lost
It smashed it's head on the window.

The two men stopped
And looked at the bird
Wondering if it lived or was dead.
The old man moved
Bent to get the bird
Almost falling down from his feet.

The bird lay dead
In his old wrinkled hands
He didn't know what to do.
Others looked at him
And thought him mad
For taking the small bird in his hand.

He began to cry
The poor old man
For the life of this little swallow
Then to his surprise
The bird sprung to life
From deaths' grip did it escape.

The train then stopped
He hurried out
In hopes to set the bird free.
But he was far underground
In the subway complex
It was a long, uphill journey

Pushing past people
Running up the stairs
He pushed his own personal limits
A guard ushered him by
With a wink of an eye
And the man continued on his way.

The last set of stairs
He made his way up
Panting quite heavily.
And with a smile
He opened his hands
And the bird flew into the trees.

He watched with joy
As they all spoke to him
Chirping their very own thanks.
He closed his eyes
And fell to the ground.
THe last good deed he was able to complete.

The world as scene
We live in a world
That is totally connected
Banks can transfer funds
In a blink of an eye.
We can talk to someone
Half way around the world
In crystal clarity
By pushing a few buttons
Answering machines
Are almost a thing of the past
Cell phones, text messeging.
Why? Afraid to miss a call?
In fear that something important
May take place without our knowledge?
Yet our children
Our flesh and blood
We have no idea
Where they spend their nights
What they do during the day.
Do they go to school like they should?
Are they skipping classes to hang out?
We won't miss that phone call
For the important meeting at five.
But we'll easily miss a cry for help
At two in the morning
By a total stranger, dying.
Connected, they say the world is.
I think no one has ever been more alone.