When we found you
thrashing in the brambles,
feather-clad neck noosed
in fishing line,
I wonder if you felt 
anything other than fear.

Forgive me,
I tried to make 
the operation go smoothly-
I am a novice surgeon,
you, the protesting patient.
I am unfamiliar with the map
of your fragile body,
the architecture of wing and bone
is foreign to me.

When you disembarked from
our ramshackle med bay,
I hope you were deaf
to the siren song
that ensnared the both of us.