Rest now,
Little bird.

Such pain
Goes not
Unnoticed,

As I find you
Curled
On the sidewalk
Chirping aloud
For my help –

Besides that curb
So rough
With rigid lines
Which manage
Those cars too large
To notice
What life
Is struggling
Near.

How streets
Have claimed your wings,
And passersby neglected
This tiny heartbeat

Startled

Still fallen
Off old trees.

Where nature
Has no place

And bloodied beaks
Are common

From careless men
Whose passage
Tear nests
Apart
Like wind.

These final cries
You speak
Must prove
There is some
Semblance

Of meaning
Within anguish

Expressed
By tiny noise.

In contrast
To those roads
Through crosswalks
Ever teeming

With crowds
Of huddled masses

Whose ears
Just cannot
Hear.

– J. Pigno