It is a cool and breezy day.
You are wearing a hat.
Your hands are in your pockets.
You are walking along a path.
The leaves crunch under your feet.
You look up.
The tree branches are bare and seem dark against the pale sky.
You keep walking and walking.
Notice the sounds all around you.
The breeze whispers past.
Your footsteps softly thud on the ground.
There is a tiny sound of an animal scurrying.
The trees creak gently.
And then the wind gusts like a message.
You stop.
A pile of leaves swirl and underneath,
Lying on the ground,
Is a small red bird.
You go to it and it blinks at you.
It is scared of you and tries to move its wings,
But it is tangled in something wiry.
You sing a lullaby to the bird.
You begin to gently peel away the tangles.
Once it is free,
The bird lies there for a moment,
Looking at you.
Then it begins to sing to you.
It hops and stops to ruffle a bit,
Then uses its beak to smooth its feathers.
It looks at you once more,
Then flies way up,
Up,
Up to a tree,
Then swoops down and away out of sight.
You continue walking,
Whistling softly to the forest,
Telling all that you are a friend.