|From Death Springs Life|
The sound of beating wings drew me across the room.to the breakfast nook .
A silhouette of butterfly wings imprisoned, between the plastic window cover and window, fluttered in a desperate attempt to escape. With a cupped hand, the butterfly was gently guided upward, toward freedom.
Another prisoner kept there was not so fortunate. Caught in the plastic, a small songbird lay dead. Evidence of his struggle to escape stained the window sill.
As I sanded away the last trace of the little birds death, I erased all evidence of his valiant struggle to find freedom.