the birds
he found small birds one night
laying in the street
broken and bleeding
they breathed like comets
he brushed the sky off their feathers
whistled to them while they slept
they stayed in his bed beside him
too tired to make a mess
he fed them bread in the morning
the smell got them to sing again
then one night he carried them
up to the roof
sat all the birds around him
he told them stories about love
and airplanes
and all the things humans try to make
he fell asleep up there and
the glowing of the sun woke him up
he was all alone
the birds had disappeared
maybe flown away
but there were feathers everywhere
the light made them look
like a field of rye
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