When I was a young driver, br Fresh behind the wheel, br I saw a bird fly beneath a driver’s car br Ahead of me. br br Her wings were broken br And her body badly damaged. br She flapped without hope br On the hot July street. br br When I approached her, br I ran her over; br I cannot be sure br Accidentally or purposely. br br I began to cry br And pray to St. Francis, br Poor little bird! br br But I thought, br Does God see br The lonely pain of a bird br And the frailty of all creatures? br br At that moment, br I became resolved br Every poem I wrote br Would be a prayer br For compassion.