Childhood Wisdom

When you were little,
much smaller than now,
you took my hand
and
led me to the
little dead bird behind
the house.

Crushed by the contorted
neck and delicate beak,
you said,
"I can fix it"
and led me to another
field filled with
corn and flowers.

From here you said that God would
lift that bird into the wind
and carry him home
to his little bird family,
who, you said,
were no doubt,
worried.

And it was days before you led me back
to that first pasture
where the dead bird was
no more.
A jubilant face upturned to mine.

As it turned out,
it was just a matter
of
perspective.