The little black bird

It was heavy rain. So heavy that the bottom third of my body was wet even though I have an umbrella and merely crossed two little roads. 

It was at a little path in the non-shelter that I heard little tweets. I looked down and saw a little black rock. Oh wait. That's not a rock. It was a little wet bird chirping away. 

It looked as if it were stuck and couldn't move. I wanted to help it but I didn't dare to touch it. 

I walked away. But I couldn't stop looking back. I wanted to help it. 

I went up to a regular hawker that I know and asked if he dared to touch birds. He seemed reluctant but walked with me to take a look. Just as we were nearing the little bird "see that little black dot?" I said to him... We saw a man doing exactly what I wanted to do. 

The man picked up the little bird and placed him under shelter. I felt so happy. 

I'm glad the bird is at least under shelter. And while I can't help him more for now, I'm glad I tried. 

The husband and I had a random lengthy conversation last night about how me being emotional is very tiring and unnecessary. As much as I agree with him, I cannot change my genetic composition. I can endeavor to be more efficient in my thought process, but this is just me. 

I wish the little black bird well.