The neighbor girl is
  in our yard
  throwing
a hand towel on a bird.
A robin fledgling. 

“REET REET reet!”
shouts the hopping fledgling,
managing temporary escape. 

What’s going on,
I ask out the window,
We are saving this bird,
says the neighbor.
Sorry we broke into your yard. 

Saving? I ask. 

It flew into a car,
she says. 

It seems pretty ok,
I provocate.
Where is it hurt?

We saw its parents too,
she says. 

Yes, I say. I hear them 
shouting from the trees. 
What will you do with it?

Keep it until it is better. 

I doubt this plan, 
but keep it to myself. 
Let these children have
their formative life experience
killing a bird—

as well-meaning and as clueless
as the rest of us.