Fragmented

Feeling low so many weeks into this, so many yet to go.
So, I look at the photos of merely a sparrow but more than that for me. Out on the deck I shove my chair. A use-to-be simple step. Up and over the threshold. A one-legged daring dance, per chance to photograph a bit of nature. Breathe in it’s calming air. A cardinal, a jay, a woodpecker, finch, please to come my way. I sit with my camera, one-handed. Left. It feels like foul play.
Merely a sparrow makes his presence known to my left lens. But, Oh, what a sparrow! What countenance he displays as I awkwardly click, reposition click and glance away.
He stays the course. Takes the helm. Looks far out to the horizon.
What do you see, you little bird? Will my fragmented wings heal enough to bid these chains adieu? Shall I fly high above the staircase of doom? Soar over declining steps to broken bones, chairs with wheels, and things I’m told I cannot do?
Tell me in chirps, keen feathering,
Do you see my wings whole and fresh and flying high with you?