Whirlwind of tail and paws Golden eyes camouflage hidden treasures of Seasons past Days of brilliant sun and silver snow
Life was free to roam Whenever Wherever You pleased
Hollowed trees and broken porch steps Were your umbrella from hailstorms of humanity
Creeks and abandoned birdbaths quenched your thirst for the good life of open fields and quail and blue tailed skinks While running from loose dogs and eagle eyed predators
Some people have said your hunger for something wild Will never be satisfied now Because someone thought it was more humane to Rescue you from the unknown dangers that lurked behind, under, and above the natural elements
One day you appeared at dusk and again at dawn on the doorstep of One who needed to be needed One who was eager to give you scraps and a Warm blanket for the winter nights One who made you feel comfortable and secure
Christened with a name that echos your Sunny persona You spend your weighty days Slightly rotund Happy to eat prepackaged meals Reconciled to the fact you are safe
Watching your other life pass by from your windowed perch You are content Knowing on the inside You are free Because long ago Your spirit captured the sun
What’s up. Sunny? This morning my yellow tabby, Mr. Sunshine, was not moving. His morning routine consists of eating breakfast, meowing to go outside and running down the stairs of my back deck to do whatever formerly-stray-but-now rescued cats do. Not today. He ate and went outside alright, but did not run down the steps. Instead he was lying under my raised flower box. Frozen in place. Then his tail twitched as if to say, “Go away, kid, you bother me.” I knew immediately this can’t be good.
I was right.
When I picked up the cedar flower box and slid it to the side of the porch, Sunny took off down the stairs. Under the box, just out of reach of my cat’s hopeful paws lay a tiny, trembling, feathered creature that was gasping for air.
It had no bite or claw markings on it that would indicate it was injured by another animal, but it still was unable to stand on its own. This morning was cooler than usual and very windy. Was it possible that this baby wren had been blown out of its nest before it could fly freely on its own?
One wing quivered before the poor thing fell to his side. I ran inside to get a cardboard box and put some scrap flannel material in the bottom. I picked him up knowing this was his last chance to survive. Maybe it just needs to be brought indoors for time away from the wind and curious eyes. I said a little prayer and put him in God’s hands. After all, He created him and knew what was best for His creation.
A few minutes later it was obvious my willingness to have this baby bird live wasn’t enough.
“His Eye is on the Sparrow” came to mind. The song that Ethel Waters and Mahalia Jackson made popular so long ago is apropos even today. I don’t like death! I don’t like to see an animal suffer, or a human being suffer, for that matter. But I do find comfort in knowing Who is on the other side of this thing called life. The One we learned about in confirmation class and Sunday School or learned from reading the Bible on our own, or simply an inspiring poem.
The One who is Omniscient, Omnipotent, and Omnipresent is here and there and we will see face to face someday. And like that song says, “I sing because I’m happy. I sing because I’m free. His eye is on the sparrow and I know He watches me.”
Watermelon Walk 