The Heron & The Sparrow

Once upon a time…

there was a heron and a sparrow who nested in neighboring trees

in a large meadow just out of reach from the 

Garden of Faerie Delights.

There also lived a panther who only spoke in

lyrics and lies, its voice 

as enticing as its strut. 

The panther did not bother with a nest, 

for it came and it went between 

the heron and the sparrow,

singing its silver-tongued melody:

“Pretty lost bird, pretty lost bird,

wherefore do you fly thither ‘way 

from me, pretty lost bird?

I give you song, I give you might,

must you avoid me in this pointless flight?”

Neither spoke the heron nor the sparrow,

for their friends - 

the egrets, the rabbits, and the toads - 

all warned of the panther’s beckoning siren song.

Many good critters with bright futures

fell ill to the panther’s call,

never to be seen again. 

So not a word did the birds spoke,

yet the panther continued still.

“Pretty lost bird, pretty lost bird,

wherefore do you stick your beak 

‘way from me, pretty lost bird?

Great heron, do you not take pride?

Genesis comes for those who open wide.”

But the heron said nothing.

The panther turned to the sparrow.

“Pretty lost bird, pretty lost bird,

wherefore do you clip

your beautiful wings, pretty lost bird?

Soft sparrow, I am your Francis, this is my hymn.

I am the seed, you are the stem.”

But the sparrow said nothing. 

The panther grew restless,

because it longed not for the flavors,

but for the tastes it felt entitled to.

Its maw foamed and its member ached

at the promise of this delicate meal.

Its need for the carrion outweighed

its sympathy for the bird,

as it leaped between branches 

up to the helpless, clipped sparrow.

In one snap, the bird’s leg vanished from the earth

like celluloid engulfed in a forest fire.

It would take only a snap more for the rest of her to join.

But as the great beast readied its jaw,

it was entranced by a tremendous sow 

emerging from the enchanted bushes

and scurrying ‘cross the meadow. 

The panther loosened its grip,

already amnesiac to its long-awaited snack,

as it moved on to its next victim.

Whimpering, the sparrow clumsily leapt 

from branch to branch, no longer able

to kiss the sunbaked sky she once loved.

The heron glided down to join the little bird,

wrapping her wings around the shaking, wounded body.

In a whisper she said:

“Darling sweet sparrow, darling sweet sparrow,

Your tears have no place 

here anymore, darling sweet sparrow.

Our years of torment finally ends.

Let us sing once more, let us be friends.”

And so the sparrow nestled in the heron’s feathers,

and for the first time since they could remember,

they rested.