Tell me more about you,
What’s your name, where do you belong?
Did your mother sing a lullaby?
Did she kiss you to sleep with a song?

I hold you in the palm of my hand
And gently stroke your soft chest,
I wonder what stories you would tell
Had you not fallen from your nest.

For no words can be uttered
From you tiny yellow beak
As your pain prevents any hint
Of communication from one so weak.

So all I will do is blow a breath
Of warm, reviving air, until
You wake and give me a look
As to say “Thank you”, from your bill.

Then my heart will beat once more,
No longer in grave suspense,
Happy that the panic is over,
No more feeling sad and tense.

“Who are you?” I then will say,
To my little, fledgling Jenny-Wren,
“What brothers and sisters you must have,
Off you fly, go and see then again.”