...picked up on a long walk and carried home in your pocket
Wednesday, January 23
I run out into the deep snow in my socks, shouting, to take a tiny goldcrest from Roshi's claws. I hold him in my cupped hands and he trembles. I untangle the wet cat hair from his feet. We stand in the kitchen for some time, I want to warm him, and then I peek inside my hands and he escapes to perch in the orchid. I take him outside but I don't know where to put him that will be safe. Here? Here? I open my hands. He leaves me. Will he find enough food? How long will he live?