Of Feathers That Turned Cold.

A while ago, I found a sparrow on the cold sidewalk. It had fallen frozen to its death. I felt sorry for it but I kept on walking lest I was late for my appointment. A couple of blocks later I decided to go back and pick it up to see if it was still alive. I put it inside my scarf hoping the warmth would bring it back to life.

When I realized it wouldn’t, I put it to rest at the foot of a tree in Madison Square Park. It was a more fitting and respectful place than a cold sidewalk.

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