Illusionary Sky

I enjoy casually strolling around campus.
It was a beautiful scene:
The rains had freshly broken,
the clouds had parted to let the welcoming warm sun the shine through.
The high winds had died down to a gentle breeze;
a lorikeet lay on the face down,
silently screaming into the wet footpath,
blood drooling from it's beak.

There was a loud thud. I looked up to see two black shapes falling from the sky. The library window finiallised it's vibrations subtley. One bird boucned, the other went splat. People turned around to see what was happening, some laughed, some cursed in horror, but everyone kept walking. I approached the scene carefully.

The one that bounced was comically swaying from side to side trying to keep balance. The one that splatted lay in an awefully awkward position, breathing heavily, blood trickling from it's beak. I couldn't keep my eyes off it. The inevitable death that came wasn't gradual. If fact it was quite sudden. It was as if time-space around the mass of feathers, bone, flesh and blood; froze. I paused for a second, and switched my attention to the sole survivor, clearly still dazed beside it's deceased friend.

The people traffic increased.

I picked up the wounded, gently cradling it's soft ripcage. It felt so light, delicate and weak. It struggled pathetically before quickly giving up. I placed it under a bush, away from the mad rush of the footpath. I returned to his fallen conrade, scooped it up, and respectfually lay it infront of it's disorientated buddy.

Groundtakers arrived shortly, and took the survivor into a shoebox to recoperate before release.

I paid my respects and moved on.