A bird flew into our house. She was throwing herself against the window, a fluster of wings and beak.
I watched her, waiting for her to land on the windowsill, for however briefly she might rest her wings.
She let me pick her up.
I cupped my hands around her. Her feet folded underneath her and into my palms. I could feel her whispery heartbeat tapping against my fingertips.
I carried her outside and I opened my hands. I felt her take flight, her gentle lift off.
I’m pretty sure that was a gift to me.