The Sparrow

By A.V. Shepherd

Today I found a dead sparrow by my bike. Though I had awoken to a chorus of birds declaring spring’s arrival, the exertion of this announcement had taken the remaining life in this one’s tiny breast.

I should have moved the body onto the grass, away from careless boots. Instead, I cycled to the store, squeezed avocados to test their ripeness, and hoped the casualty would not be there on my return. I couldn’t bring myself to handle its lifeless form, so instead I parked my bike elsewhere, feeling guilty and resenting spring for not being a panacea to life’s sorrows.