cutting across the green
listing in my head
the things I plan to do at work
when a small movement by a tree catches my eye -
a chick
round brown perfection
all by itself,
no bustling mama in sight.
I tremble to see it,
so close, alone,
pecking unaware
of me, my camera
I take in the arc of its yellow beak,
the black mask across its eyes,
the brown, black feathers overlapping
cupping the bird like two palms
as it picks up a morsel, swallows,
and turns on delicate twigs
each with three tender claws
I can almost feel walking in my hand,
but it is earth that holds it,
not I
Stay safe, I pray
Stay safe little one
When I finally walk off
I spot the family,
a good fifty meters away,
red junglefowl rooster, hen,
two chicks darting between their feet
scraping at the ground, pecking
I want to yell
don't lose him,
now unseen in the grass,
just because he tends to get lost
in his own thoughts,
following a tune we cannot hear
like my son
wandering off on his own
in a foreign airport,
entranced by donuts
The moment hangs in the air
like the seconds before chaos
high-pitched cheeping
feet pattering
wings flapping
hearts hammering
choking on unspeakable fears
Stay safe little one
Stay safe
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